Harry Potter and the Way of the Jedi
by TheNewJeniferChurch
Summary: Not a true crossover, but a case of someone using magic to make fiction a reality. And who would that someone be? Who else, but Harry? Alternate Year 5, and beyond. Chapter 7 now available! Chapter 3 fixed!
1. Dementors

Harry Potter

and the

Way of the Jedi

Author's Note: This is not a true crossover, but more of an AU kind of story. It's Harry Potter with a Jedi twist, but no actual Jedi and no star ships, no actual lightsabers, and nothing "less elegant" either. This story is about Harry figuring something out, and changing the world in the process.

Quoting George Lucas, who was quoting Leia, "They were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Naturally they became heroes."

Chapter One: Dementors

Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. . .

* Han, Leia and Chewbacca stood off a short way from the revelers. They stayed close to each other, not talking; periodically glancing at the path that led into the village. Half waiting, half trying not to wait; unable to do anything else.

Until, at last, their patience was rewarded: Luke and Lando, exhausted but happy, stumbled down the path, out of the darkness, into the light. The friends rushed to greet them. They all embraced, cheered, jumped about, fell over, and finally just huddled, still wordless, content with the comfort of each other's touch.

In a while, the two droids sidled over as well, to stand beside their dearest comrades. The fuzzy Ewoks continued in wild jubilation, far into the night, while this small company of gallant adventurers watched from the sidelines.

For an evanescent moment, looking into the bonfire, Luke thought he saw faces dancing—Yoda, Ben; was it his father? He drew away from his companions, to try to see what the faces were saying; they were ephemeral, and spoke only to the shadows of the flames, and then disappeared altogether.

It gave Luke a momentary sadness, but then Leia took his hand and drew him back close to her and to the others, back into their circle of warmth, and camaraderie; and love.

The Empire was dead.

Long live the Alliance.*

Harry put the book on his bedside table, his mind buzzing with possibilities. Could it really be that simple?

It was titled _The Star Wars Trilogy, A Special Tenth-Anniversary Omnibus Edition_. Hermione had given it to him as they were getting off the Hogwarts Express, and on the surface, it wasn't one that the Dursleys would normally object to. It was fictional, but it was science fiction, and they let Dudley mess around with that all the time. She'd told him that they were novelizations of the Star Wars movies. She'd said, "I think you might like this story, Harry. It's about a different kind of Dark Lord being defeated. We could all use such hope right now."

The thing was, the Jedi seemed to be some kind of space wizards at first glance, though upon reading the whole thing through, he knew they were closer to warrior monks, like some oriental sects such as the Shaolin were. Idly, Harry wondered if George Lucas was a squib.

The stories were fictional, but what if he could make them reality in some way? Voldemort was back. What if the next time they met, he wasn't just a boy? What if he were a Jedi, or as near as he could come on this planet, anyway?

He sighed. The trick would be in how to make it happen. He needed more information.

Harry took a bus the next morning to the local library, and he spent the entire day there. He ransacked the fiction section for anything and everything they had on Star Wars, which wasn't a lot. Then he went for other sections, taking out books on physical fitness, martial arts, sword fighting, strategy, tactics and meditation. Surrey Public Library had plenty of variety, and he found everything he was looking for.

He studied the basics of meditation first, learning what he would need to do to be successful at it, and the basics of physical fitness training. The park had a running track around the edge of it that was half a mile in circumference. He started running that track every morning, adding two laps every week. When he got up to four miles, he started adding sword training, using a cut-off Muggle broomstick. He went slowly the first week, just learning the kata in the book. Then once he had that memorized, he started blending everything together. He meditated while he ran. He meditated while he did the sword katas. He meditated at rest while he cooled down. And finally, one night while he was simply meditating on his own thoughts he found what he had been looking for.

He turned his mind inward, toward the center of his body, and there he found his magic. He dared not pull from it, knowing that his house was being monitored by the Ministry. He knew they were refusing to believe that Voldemort had returned, and because of that they would be eager to discredit him. Instead he touched the magic to get a feel for it, sunk his mind into it so that he would be able to access it on a more instinctive level.

It was like swimming in light, but once immersed, he realized that it was a reservoir fed by a mighty river, and that river flowed all around him. There were eddies and currents, places that were deep and slow, and places that were like rapids. This was the magic around him, and it reminded him strongly of the Star Wars books descriptions of the Force. He could feel how it flowed around things; houses, animals, people. He could sense the magical cores of everyone near him; the three small ones inside the house and the two large ones outside it. One felt dingy, like an old sock, but the other felt vibrant and full of sparks. The dingy one was male, and the sparkly one was female. Harry knew that these two were watching the house for Professor Dumbledore.

Ron and Hermione's letters were irritatingly vague, but he knew that they were up to something. He smiled. He knew that if it hadn't been for his reading about strategy and tactics their silence on matters of substance would have irked him, but now he understood a little more about keeping information close. It wouldn't do for the wrong people to get hold of that information, and it wasn't unheard of for owls to be intercepted. After all, Dobby had done in the summer before his second year at Hogwarts. The lack of information was disturbing to him, but he knew that he'd be able to find out once he was no longer in the Dursleys' house.

They had sent him birthday gifts and cards, and he took comfort in those tokens from his friends. No doubt, his decision to follow a different path than that of the rest of the wizarding world was changing him, and for the better. He knew that without the gift of Hermione's book he'd have let Cedric's death and the not knowing get to him. He supposed that all of this mixed with his natural teenaged hormones would have made him a right git, but with the help of his new meditation techniques and the Jedi Code he now strove to live by, he had been able to come to terms with what had happened to Cedric. He knew better than to think he was now a Jedi. He wasn't even a learner. But he didn't need to be yet, not to handle his own personal demons.

The morning of August the second, he continued his normal routine, but when he got to the point of restful meditation, he was interrupted by Dudley and his friends. It was already dark out, so Harry was thankful to them for waking him, but there was something in the air tonight, something that was disturbing the magic around him. He wasn't sure what was going on, but the fact that something was happening was unmistakable, and it had distracted him.

Dudley was still quite overweight, but he'd been cornered by a boxing coach with a good eye at his school, Smeltings, and now there was also quite a bit of muscle under the fat. Harry thought it was good for him, but Dudley was also a bully, and not just to Harry. He'd been using his boxing prowess against defenseless children, and if it weren't for the fact that Harry had much bigger problems, he'd start taking the other boy down a few pegs, get him to realize that what he was doing was wrong. His parents would certainly never teach it to him.

Dudley's friends made their farewells at the gate to the park, and seeing Harry sitting there, he came in, planning to taunt him. He rose in a single fluid motion to stand from his meditation position on the ground. "Good evening, cousin. Heading home?" he asked pleasantly.

"Like you care. Big man with his magic stick."

Harry ignored the comment about his wand. Of course, he had it on him, because he'd be a fool to go anywhere without it. But he had no intention of acknowledging the dig. Instead, he redirected. "I suppose you and your friends had some fun today? Beating up another ten-year-old? I heard about Mark Evans."

"So? He cheeked me!"

"And that gives you the right to hurt him?" He shook his head, allowing his face to show disappointment. "Dudley, do you like Star Wars?"

"What, the films? I didn't think you'd ever seen 'em."

"I haven't, but I ran across the books they'd made from them. I thought they were pretty good stuff. Did you like them?"

Nonplused at the change of subject, and Harry being so polite to him, Dudley said, "Yeah, so?"

"Who's your favorite character?"

"Han Solo!"

Harry grinned. "Yeah, he's pretty great! I like Obi-wan, myself, but Han does have a great little ship, doesn't he? And he has a great best mate! Chewbacca's awesome!"

"Yeah, he's great! Huh. I didn't think you liked normal stuff."

"Well I haven't had much chance to look at normal stuff. So tell me; why do you think Han didn't beat up on Luke? I mean he's bigger, and Chewie was there to back him up. So why didn't he?"

"Luke didn't have anything he wanted."

"Okay. D'you think he would have done if Luke did have something like that? Like the money to get him out from under Jabba's contract?" Solo Harry could work with. If it had been Vader or Anakin, Harry knew this wouldn't have worked.

"Nah. Ben did have, and he just promised to take them where they wanted to go."

"Right, he might be a scoundrel, but he's just a businessman, really. So, if you like Han so much, why don't you act like him?"

Dudley stopped in his tracks, staring at Harry like he had two heads. "Me? Be like Han Solo?" Something sparked in Dudley's mind at that. Harry felt it, like a deep longing, and he realized he was still noticing those kinds of things, like how people felt. Huh. Magic and the force were certainly showing a lot more similarities than he had expected.

He pressed on with Dudley, though. "Sure! Why not? He's got a great ride, a great mate, and he gets the girl!"

"How does that work, though? How do I suddenly start acting like Han Solo? Without getting in debt to a butt-ugly gangster?"

"Well, one, he's fit, so the girl will like him in the first place. Two, he's got a friend who's very loyal and will stick by him through thick and thin, but who isn't afraid to tell him when he's wrong or being an ass. Three, he's good at cards. He won the _Falcon_ from Lando in a game of sabaac. He's not a goody-two-shoes, but he's not a bully, either. And he's good at fixing things. The _Falcon_ 's always in need of repairs, and it takes both him and Chewie to keep her running. And finally, you've got to have a great ride, but that can wait until you're older. As for Jabba, don't do business with that sort in the first place and you won't have to worry about it."

Dudley really wasn't as stupid as he looked, but he was conflicted. "I've got Piers, ain't I? And beating people up has always got me what I wanted before. If people are afraid of me, they'll do what I want."

Harry nodded. Time for the main point. "Yes, they will do, Dudley. But do you know who it is that feels just that way in Star Wars?"

Curious, and not realizing that there was anyone like him in what was really one of his favorite movie series, he said, "Who?"

"Emperor Palpatine. Oh, he was a genius at making people afraid! He knew that he couldn't make people too afraid of him personally, or eventually they'd fight back. So he made them afraid of other people, and then came in and rescued them, so when he asked, they gave him lots of power. Then, after he'd been given the power, he made them afraid of him so they wouldn't try to take it back."

Dudley was shocked, but he could see what Harry was saying. He wasn't wrong about the Emperor in Star Wars. "But Dad says—"

"I know, Dudley. He's encouraged you to be a bully all your life, and he was probably a bully in school, too. But he's wrong, and I think you can be better than him."

Suddenly Harry felt something else impinging on his senses, and he reached out to see what it was. It was dark, and cold, and very, very hungry. _Dementors! Here!?_ No time to wonder why or how they'd come here. He needed to get himself and Dudley out of harm's way.

"Dudley, I know magic scares you, but right now there's something even scarier coming our way. You feel how it's starting to get really cold?"

"Yeah?"

"There are a couple of dementors in the area. I don't know why; they're certainly not allowed. You won't be able to see them because you don't have magic, but they'll still affect you, and if they corner you, they'll suck out your soul. If I do have to do magic, I swear to you I will only do it to protect us, all right. Even then our best bet is to run, understand?"

And then they were there! Harry shouted, "Run!"

For the first time in his life, Dudley showed some sense, and ran when Harry told him to, as fast as he could with the extra weight he carried. But running was not something he was used to doing, and before they got to the end of Magnolia Crescent, he was wheezing. Harry was, of course, quite capable of running far faster and further than his cousin, but he wasn't about to leave the boy to the dementors.

Suddenly the idea he'd been working on came to his mind. He hadn't tested it out, but now was the perfect time. He focused on his magic the same way he had done earlier to look at the world around him, but this time he pulled the broomstick he'd been using as a practice sword and focused his magic through it instead of pulling his wand. He then said the first thing that came to his mind, and it was a spell he had never cast before, but he trusted in the magic to tell him what was needed. The false memory of his parents, given to him by the Mirror of Erised, fueled the spell. "GLADIUS PATRONUM!"

And then there was a lightsaber in his hand! The broomstick was lit with magical light, and because of everything that was going through his head, he knew that the light would act as its mythical namesake. It was not green or blue, however, but the pure white of the Patronus.

He couldn't afford to be shocked by this development, instead turning at bay and slicing through the dementor that was closest to them. It screamed horribly as the blade passed through its midsection. The other dementor went straight for Dudley, and Harry focused the magic into his other hand and sent a wave of moving air to blow the demon off course. Harry turned his attention back to the first dementor, but quickly realized his blow had been fatal, and ran to catch back up to Dudley.

Then he saw Mrs. Figg running toward them. _Disaster!_ The dementor was now far closer to her than it was to the boys. Harry ran as fast as he could and pushed her to the ground just as it would have reached her. It passed over their heads, and then Harry scrambled back to his feet. Then the demon screeched and turned back to try again, but this time Harry was ready for it, and as it swooped in he stepped to the side and took its head off.

"Mrs. Figg, are you all right?"

"I-I'm fine young man. What about your cousin?"

They both went to where Dudley had stopped. He was gasping for air from the running. "Dudley? How do you feel?"

"Like I'm gonna throw up. I need to get into shape. It's so cold, though! What the hell were those things?"

"Dementors. They're a kind of demon. We'll get you some chocolate when we get back to the house. You'll be right as rain." He turned to Mrs. Figg. This could be a problem. "Ah, Mrs. Figg?"

But she seemed to know what his worry was. "Don't worry about me, Harry. I'm a squib. Now, don't put that away," she said as Harry started to do exactly that and deactivate his saber. "There might be more of them out there. Oh, I am going to kill Mundungus Fletcher! He left! Left to see someone about a batch of cauldrons that fell off the back of a broom! I told him I'd flay him alive if he went, and now look. Dementors! It's just lucky I put Mr. Tibbles on the case! But we haven't got time to stand around! Hurry! We've got to get you back! Oh, the trouble this is going to cause! I will kill him!"

"All right, I'm going to put this away because it's too dangerous to have it out, but I'll get out my wand. You all right to move again, Dudd?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

As they went, Harry got what information he could out of his old minder. "This Fletcher bloke has been following me? I thought I caught wind of one or two folk watching me from time to time."

"Of course. You don't think Dumbledore would leave you unguarded on purpose, do you? Now keep your wand out. Don't mind the Statute of Secrecy now, there's going to be hell to pay anyway, we might as well be hanged for a dragon as an egg. Talk about the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. This is exactly what Dumbledore was afraid of—what's that at the end of the street? Oh, it's just Mr. Prentice. Don't put your wand away, boy. Don't I keep telling you I'm no use?"

"I didn't use my wand to begin with. Do you think they'll still pick it up at the Ministry?" Harry didn't bother asking why he would be in trouble for defending himself and Dudley. He'd taken a subscription to the Daily Prophet and he knew they were running a smear campaign against him.

"I don't know. I know they have ways of detecting underage magic, but I don't know about wandless—MUNDUNGUS FLETCHER, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"

There was a loud crack and a strong smell of mingled drink and stale tobacco filled the air as a squat, unshaven man in a tattered overcoat materialized right in front of them. He had short, bandy legs, straggly ginger hair, and bloodshot, baggy eyes that gave him the doleful look of a basset hound. He was also clutching a silvery bundle that Harry recognized at once as an Invisibility Cloak.

"'S' up, Figgy? What 'appened to staying undercover?"

"I'll give you undercover! Dementors, you useless, skiving sneakthief!"

"Dementors?" he repeated, horrified. "Dementors, here?"

"Yes, here, you worthless pile of bat droppings, here! Dementors attacking the boy on your watch! And you off buying stolen cauldrons! Didn't I tell you not to go? Didn't I?"

"I—well, I—i-it was a very good business opportunity, see—"

Then she started whacking him about the head with her handbag, which was full of tins of cat food and berating him even further.

Eventually the no-account popped off to tell Dumbledore what had happened, and they went onward to the house, Harry trying hard not to laugh at the man's expression.

"I hope Dumbledore murders him! I'll take you to the door, just in case there are any more of them around." He didn't mention that he could sense the beasts and would know if there were more of them. She was upset enough as it was. "Oh, my word, what a catastrophe—and you had to fight them off yourself—and Dumbledore said we were to keep you from doing magic at all costs. All right, here we are. Get inside and stay there. I expect someone will be in touch with you soon enough."

With that she was off toward home. The boys went in as quickly as they could.

Aunt Petunia was waiting for Dudley and went berserk upon seeing his condition. "We were attacked, Mum! Harry got rid of 'em, though. We're okay."

Harry begged to differ, much as he was happy his cousin didn't blame him for all of this. "Not yet you're not. Go sit on the couch. You need to rehydrate—you're not used to running at all, let alone for your life. And we both of us need at least a half a bar of chocolate. That's first aid for a dementor's effect."

Realizing by the fact that Dudley was listening to Harry and giving him credit that this was serious, Petunia went to the kitchen and drew a glass of water from the tap for each boy and a chocolate bar from Dudley's supposedly hidden secret stash. "I guess I'm glad I stashed some candy, but after this mess I am getting fit. I don't want to get caught like that again."

"That's a great idea, Dudd. I've got some great books that can help you with that. They're what I've been training from. You won't need to go as far as I have, but you can do anything you want."

Petunia screeched, "You're not giving my son magic books!"

"Oh, no!" Harry rushed to reassure her. "They're exercise books I borrowed from the library. They're actually due back in a couple of days, but you could recheck them."

"Oh."

"Mum? Please, Harry was great tonight. I couldn't even see them until he killed them! Mrs. Figg walked us back, and she was shouting about this Fletcher that was supposed to be guarding Harry against something like this and he skived off! I thought she was going to take his head off with that bag of hers."

Harry grinned at his cousin. "She might have done if she didn't need him to get to Professor Dumbledore. All right. I may or may not be getting a bunch of owl post in a few minutes. Almost certainly one, quite possibly a few. I know you don't like them, Aunt Petunia, but I can't stop them."

And the owls came, one from Arthur Weasley telling him not to leave the house and not to use any more magic, and one from Sirius that let him know nothing had been noted at the Ministry so he should be fine. Harry breathed a sigh of relief then. It meant he would not end up in official trouble for this. It also might mean he could leave here for the Burrow. But he wanted to make certain Dudley was okay first. He didn't know if there might be a worse reaction since the other boy was a Muggle. "I want someone to come and check you over, Dudley, just to make sure you're okay." He looked at Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. "It'll have to be a witch or wizard, you understand?"

Vernon looked ready to deny him anything, but Petunia put a hand on his arm. She looked at her husband with pleading eyes, and he hung his head a little and nodded. She turned to Harry. "I know we haven't ever really got on, but thank you for helping Dudley, Po—Harry."

He just nodded, not rubbing it in. "Hedwig's out hunting right now, but I'll send her with a note as soon as she gets back in." He turned to go upstairs to his room. He needed to meditate on all of this.

"Harry?"

"Yeah, Dudd?"

"Thanks again."

He gave him a smile. "Any time."

Petunia stared at her son. "Duddikins, what happened between you two tonight? I mean, you're being nice to each other?"

"Harry showed me something tonight, about how I was treating people, and he did it in a real cool way. He's been reading Star Wars, and when I said I liked Han Solo, he showed me I was acting more like the Emperor." He looked at his parents with the same expression he used to get stuff out of them. "I don't wanna be the Emperor! I mean, I don't wanna be a bully no more. I wanna be a good guy so I can be cool like Han Solo!"

Harry grinned from the top of the stairs where he'd stopped to listen. Dudley would be all right, as far as growing up was concerned. Now he wanted to make sure he'd have that chance. He went on into his room. He kept it neat, though not obsessively so, and he had his desk set up with parchment and quill. He wrote a quick note to Arthur requesting someone stop by and check on Dudley's health. Then he sat down on the floor with his back to the wall, crossing his legs for comfort, and took several deep breaths before slipping into a meditative state.

He didn't dare to do magic in the house, or attempt another wandless spell like the lightsaber-like enchantment he'd done earlier that night. He remembered that the Ministry had picked up Dobby's shenanigans back in the summer before second year, and he hadn't even been the one to do them. He sometimes thought it might have been because Dobby wanted him to get in trouble and not be able to go back to Hogwarts, but he wasn't willing to take that chance right now. But he did contact his magic, just as a Jedi would contact the force, and let it tell him what was going on around him.

He knew it when someone arrived to check on Dudley, and he went down to meet them. He was happily surprised to see Remus Lupin standing in the sitting room running a basic diagnostic charm over his cousin. When it was finished, Remus said, "Well it looks like things are all right. Still, Harry was right to owl us. He had you eat some chocolate?" At Dudley's nod, he said, "Good. Merlin knows that boy's had to deal with dementors enough in his life to know how to handle it, but he still played it on the safe side."

"I wasn't sure if there'd be a difference since he's not magical." Remus turned toward his voice, and he smiled. "Hello, Professor."

Remus grinned at him. "Good to see you're all right, Harry."

"Yeah, and no thanks to that Fletcher bloke. All though, Mrs. Figg handled his punishment quite nicely, I'd still prefer it if he wasn't one of my minders ever again."

"Minders?" asked Aunt Petunia.

Remus sighed a bit. "How much has Harry told you about what's going on in the wizarding world?"

She looked at Vernon, who was huffing a little, but significantly less than he might with an adult wizard in the room. After all, Remus had only checked Dudley for damage, not anything else. She said, "He hasn't, at our request. We've never wanted to know."

He nodded. "All right. This is very important and you need to know for your own safety. The dark wizard who killed your sister and her husband has been returned to life through a dark ritual. He would very much like to see Harry dead, and he would think killing you and your family would not only hurt Harry, but be amusing at the same time. This man—no, he's not a man anymore, not with all he's done to himself to survive death. This creature is purely evil, and unfortunately he has many followers.

"The organization of which I am a part has set minders on this house to invisibly guard it, over and beyond the protections you have by your shared blood with Harry, which powers the wards on the house. What happened tonight, other than the dementors, was that the person who was supposed to be minding the house decided he had somewhere better to be instead of what he should have been doing. He will not be given the opportunity again, so you don't have to worry about him."

Dudley said, "Mrs. Figg said he went to see someone about a bunch of stolen cauldrons, and when he came back, he said it was a business opportunity. Don't know if he told you that or not."

Harry grinned. Dudley was living up to his own stated goals in life already and it hadn't even been a day! "Yeah, and then she wacked him over and over with her handbag. I think it was full of cat food tins."

Remus chuckled. "Right. Now, the Ministry does not seem to have detected your use of magic tonight, Harry, and we're not sure why. Not that we aren't grateful for that. We were almost sure that the Minister was going to try and do something to get you expelled, though this would have been more than a little extreme than I thought him capable of. But that aside, how did you deal with the dementors?"

Harry sighed. "I killed them."

Remus blinked. "H-how?"

"I think I've figured out how to do wandless magic. I've been doing a lot of training this summer, physical and mental training. I got some books from the local library on how to proceed, and, well, I was inspired by a series of stories called Star Wars. They're science fiction, but they have a group of warrior monks called Jedi who use swords made of very strong light called plasma. I've been practicing sword-work with a non-magical broomstick. And when they came tonight, I was still in that mindset, in contact with my magic without actively using it, just letting it flow through me. I was guided by the magic."

"You said gladius patronum, Harry," said Dudley.

"Right. I had my wooden sword out, and suddenly it was as if it were a lightsaber, but it was made of the same stuff as a Patronus, like a full Patronus got transfigured into a sword. And it acted just as a lightsaber should, sliced right through them. Dudd could see them after I'd killed them, but not before."

Remus just blinked. "Gladius? That would be from the Latin guardio, which means sword. That—That's truly amazing, Harry! I've never heard of that before. And your magic guided you into that spell? You didn't see it in a book somewhere?"

Instead of answering directly, Harry asked Dudley, "Do you have any of the Star Wars movies on a disk or a tape where we can show him kind of what I'm talking about?"

"Yeah!" Dudley jumped up and went to the video cabinet, pulling out the DVD of Episode VI, Return of the Jedi and putting it into the player. With expert fingers on the remote, the large boy flipped through the menu to the battle between Luke and Vader.

They watched just a little of it, just to give Remus an idea of what was going through Harry's head. He was astonished, to say the least. "So basically, your magic led you to what your mind was trying to achieve."

Harry nodded. "It still worked like a Patronus in that I had to bring a happy memory to mind. And after I released the magic, I noticed something." He took out the broomstick from its makeshift scabbard on his back. He'd wrapped duct tape around one end to serve as a grip and keep himself from accidentally flinging it across the park. But now, burned into the wood of the blade by the magic was an image of a stag at bay, just below the grip. "So I really just have one question, Professor. Would the Ministry pick it up if I did wandless magic in the house? I already know they won't pick up my focusing on my magic, but I haven't used it in the house just in case."

A slow smile came to the werewolf's face, one that left no doubt that he had once been numbered among those who were called the Marauders of Hogwarts. "No, Harry, they don't. Wandless magic is not taught below NEWT level, and a student is then a legal adult, so the Wizengamot never regulated it."

Harry returned the smile, but it was gentler, then turned to Vernon and Petunia. "I want to give you both a promise, and I'll make it a wizard's oath. On my magic, I swear not to perform magical spells in this house or on its grounds, except in the case of defending either myself or another from harm, until the stroke of midnight, 31 July, 1997. So mote it be." A light flashed from the palm of Harry's hand, signifying the oath. "This means that if I ever break my promise, my magic will break, and I'll become a Squib, unable to use it. But it's worded so that I can protect you and myself if we're ever attacked in the house without that happening, and now I know that if I don't use my wand, the Ministry will never know what happened. Since they don't like me right now, that's a tactical advantage."

Remus was beaming at this point. "I'm very proud of you, Harry."

"And what, pray tell, did all of that mean?" asked Vernon.

Remus answered, "It means that before he swore that oath, he could have cursed any of you since he had figured out how to do magic without his wand, but he has chosen not to. He has chosen to take the moral high road, despite your previous treatment of him, which I know has not been kind."

Harry said quietly, "I have no desire for you to fear me."

Petunia looked at her nephew with new eyes. "I think we need to talk, Harry. All of us, as a family."

"Family?" Vernon blurted. "But he's—"

"Vernon, I love you, but please don't finish that sentence."

Remus stood and went to Harry. "I'd best be getting back. I'll be with the group who come to get you, probably in three or four days. I'm glad you're all right, Harry."

"'S good to see you, Professor."

"I'm not your Professor any more, Harry. You can call me Remus."

"Whatever you say, Professor," said Harry with a grin.

Remus chuckled. "Imp."

Then he left by the front door, the sound of it closing followed by a loud pop, the sound of Remus Disapparating. Harry sat down on one of the chairs, and for a moment, they all just stared at one another. Then Harry said, "So what can I tell you?"

*excerpt from Return of the Jedi, by James Khan, Del Rey, 1983. No copyright infringement intended.

Author's Note: Much of this chapter is directly quoted from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, by J. K. Rowling, Scholastic, 2003. No copyright infringement intended.

As with all of my stories, if you are reading this, then it is a complete story, and it will update once per week until the posting has been completed. Review to feed the beast!

Note: Yes, a lot of this comes directly from the book, but it will quickly diverge thanks to Harry's different attitude and new ability. There will also be no hearing, for the obvious reason that the Ministry doesn't have a clue that Harry's done anything. :D

EDIT: All right, all instances of "Guardius" have been changed to Gladius. My only Latin comes from online translators, so I bow to you lot's greater expertise.


	2. Sirius's Place

Chapter Two: Sirius's Place

Harry and the Dursleys sat for three hours that night talking. It was the longest actual conversation he'd ever had with any of them, and it never once devolved into a shouting match or insult-fest. There were apologies all around for the way things had gone in previous years. Dudley was suddenly encouraged to not only be polite to Harry, but also to interact with him as family. By the end of the evening, even Vernon had given up his anger. He didn't like the boy, but he'd made certain he would never be able to do any of his freakish magic in the house, so he supposed he could live with it.

Harry was no longer alone in doing the chores the next day. He ran through everything with Dudley, showing him each chore and how Aunt Petunia expected it to be done. Harry was a patient teacher, and working together, they actually got it done in a reasonable amount of time. They were then released to do as they wished for the rest of the day. Harry headed for the park as usual, but as Dudley had decided to follow him, he also brought the fitness books he had been working from. "Actually, if you get fit, your boxing coach might be quite pleased. Running is good for your heart, and strength training will help you with your weight. Both will help you with your endurance in the ring."

Harry had upped his run to five miles, and he hoped he would be able to continue his physical workouts when Remus and whoever he was working with came to get him. He'd hate to lose what he'd gained. He was packing his wooden sword, both for practice, and because he would need an untraceable weapon present if the Ministry was trying to catch him at underage magic. He also wanted to become proficient at it, and try to build something closer to a real lightsaber. It wasn't as if he didn't have enough money to buy a focus gem for it, if he didn't already have one in his vault. He wanted it to be an emerald or a sapphire, though. A ruby would not do at all!

Aunt Petunia had promised to get the rest of the books back to the library for him, and Dudley was going to recheck the ones on pure physical fitness.

And then came the day when Remus returned. He had with him quite a gaggle of wizards and witches. He had his wand out in the blink of an eye when he spotted Mad-Eye Moody among them. No one would blame him for that, not after finding out about Barty Crouch Jr. impersonating him all last year. But his wand was in his left hand. His right had gone to the grip of his sword, which he was already beginning to think of as his primary weapon. It was strapped across his back in a denim scabbard he'd made from an old pair of jeans that were too tattered to save.

"Put that down before you poke someone's eye out, Potter."

"It's all right, Harry. He's with me. He's not Polyjuiced," said Remus.

But Harry did not yet lower his defenses. Instead, he reached out into the magic and said, "Remus Lupin. What form does a Boggart take in your presence?"

Remus grinned, proud of him. "A full moon." He detected no lie, and was grateful. "And what form does your Patronus take?"

"It's a stag."

"There we are. Everyone is who they look like."

"Then why is his wand in his left hand, Lupin?" Now Moody had his wand out.

"Because my right is on the hilt of my wooden sword, which would quickly become something else entirely if you proved false. Now," Harry paused and replaced his wand in its makeshift holster, another denim construct. "I'll guess that the All-England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition win was bogus?" The Dursleys had gone out to accept the award, but Harry had stayed behind in case anything should happen.

"Right you are. Wotcher, Harry." This was the woman with the sparkly personality that he'd often sensed watching the house. Her hair was very purple at the moment, as well as short and spiky.

"And I don't suppose you have the five-hundred pounds of prize money?" He shook his head at her negative. "All right, I have to go to Gringott's at some point anyway. I'll have them send the money. My family is just starting to treat me as something other than a house elf. I'd like to build on that, and not set them off about wizards again." He saw her expression of consternation. "Hey, don't worry about it. I've got more than enough to cover it, and it's worth it to keep this new spirit of good will going around here. So where are we headed? The Burrow?"

"No, not the Burrow," answered Remus, motioning Harry toward the kitchen. "Too risky. We've set up headquarters somewhere undetectable. It's taken a while to get set up."

Mad-Eye had taken a seat at the kitchen table and was sipping from his hip flask, his magical eye spinning in all directions, taking in the Dursleys' many labor-saving appliances.

"Let me introduce you to everyone. This is Alastor Moody."

"Yes, I know."

Then Remus went around the room introducing folk. There was Don't-Call-Me-Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Elphias Doge, Dedalus Diggle, Emmeline Vance, Sturgis Podmore, and Hestia Jones. He nodded to each in turn, uncomfortable with their continued staring at him. "A surprising number of people volunteered to come and get you." Remus winked at him, enjoying his discomfiture just a little. Of course, he would. He was once a Marauder, and that wasn't something one just grew out of.

Harry smirked at him. "Glad you're enjoying this."

"Yeah, well, the more the better," said Moody darkly. "We're your guard, Potter."

"We're just waiting for the signal to tell us it's safe to set off," said Remus, glancing out the kitchen window. "We've got about fifteen minutes."

Fifteen minutes later, with Harry wearing his Quidditch gear and Disillusioned for safety, all were broom-mounted and on their way. The uniform would keep him warm if they went too high, and the way Moody was talking, that was exactly what they'd be doing, and the goggles would keep his vision clear. He had the wooden sword across his back, and Tonks had tied his trunk to her broom. Hedwig had remained with Remus in the location they were going to, so he'd taken the opportunity to clean her cage and it was tied to the back of his broom.

It felt wonderful to be flying again, but Harry kept in mind that what they were doing was dangerous, and paid careful attention both to Moody's changes in direction and what the ambient magic could tell him. They mostly went eastward into London, but Moody had them zigging all over the place to prevent someone following them or a Muggle from seeing them. Harry wanted to ask why they weren't all Disillusioned, but realized it was only him they were worrying about being spotted.

Finally they landed, and despite Moody's paranoia, no one had been following them. Harry was given a slip of paper with a hand written note on it in script he vaguely recognized. Moody said, "Read quickly and memorize."

The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.

He wanted to know, of course, what the Order of the Phoenix was, but he held his tongue for now. He memorized the script, and then Moody ignited it with his wand, allowing it to turn to ash and blow away in the wind. The group was standing at number eleven, and to the left was number thirteen, but when Harry concentrated on the script, he saw the battered door to number twelve, as if it had popped out of nothingness and into the wall between the other two. It was as if another house had inflated between them, pushing the other two houses out of the way, but Harry knew it was only an effect of his mind making up the difference. The house had always been there, if he were not mistaken, under the protection of the Fidelius Charm.

Harry walked up the stone steps, and examined the door. He noted that here was no keyhole and no letter box, just a tarnished silver knocker in the form of a twisted serpent. The magic was in the knocker, and he touched a finger to it with a little magic, which caused the door to open.

"Brilliant, Harry," said Remus. "Get in quick, but don't go far inside and don't touch anything."

The hall was completely dark, and not wanting to trip over anything, Harry pulled a small orb of light out of the ambient magic, very faint, so that it didn't blind anyone, but still enough to see where he was going. It was a pale, ghostly blue, and it stayed over and in front of him so as not to obstruct his vision.

"You're something else, Harry," said Tonks.

Moody lit the gas lamps along the walls, and Harry let his light go out. Moody removed the Disillusionment, then he heard someone hurrying toward them and soon saw Ron's mother, Mrs. Weasley, emerge from a door at the end of the hall. "Oh, Harry, it's lovely to see you!" she whispered, hugging him and then holding him at arm's length to examine him. "Well you're looking better this year than last, that's certain. Dinner will be after the meeting." She turned her attention to the bunch of wizards behind him. "He's just arrived, the meeting's started."

Everyone started filing past Harry and into the door Mrs. Weasley had just come out of, but she did not allow him to follow. "Sorry, dear, but the meeting's for Order members only. Ron and Hermione are upstairs. You can wait with them until the meeting's over and then we'll have dinner. And keep your voice down in the hall."

"Why?"

"I don't want to wake anything up. I'll explain later, I've got to hurry, I'm supposed to be at the meeting—I'll just show you where you're sleeping."

She took him silently down the hall, past doors and silent portraits, past an umbrella stand that looked as if it were made from a severed troll's leg, then up a staircase with a row of shrunken heads mounted on plaques on the wall. Looking closer, he realized they were house elf heads, all with the same snout-ish nose. This house seemed to belong to a Dark wizard, and Harry drew his magic around him like a cloak, protection against the oppressive atmosphere. What on earth would possess them to set up their headquarters in such a place?

When they reached the second landing, Mrs. Weasley whispered distractedly, "Now, Ron and Hermione will explain everything, dear, I've really got to dash. You're the door on the right." And with that, she hurried off downstairs again.

The instant Harry came into the room he was virtually flattened by Hermione, who had launched herself across the room upon seeing him. "HARRY! Ron, he's here, Harry's here! We didn't hear you arrive! Oh, how are you? Are you all right? Have you been furious with us? I bet you have, I know our letters were useless—but we couldn't tell you anything, Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn't, oh, we've got so much to tell you, and you've got to tell us—the dementors! When we heard—you're so lucky the Ministry seems to not have noticed—"

"Let him breathe, Hermione," said Ron, who was grinning as he closed the door behind Harry. Still beaming, she let him go, but before anyone could say another word, there was a soft noise and Hedwig landed gently on his shoulder.

"Hedwig! I'm glad you stayed, girl." She clicked her beak and nibbled his ear affectionately as he stroked her feathers. "You would not have liked that flight by broom."

"Good choice wearing your Quidditch gear, mate. Did Moody run you through a cloud bank? Tonks is always yelling at him for getting her soaked."

He nodded, gently moving to sit on the nearest bed without dislodging Hedwig. "All right, I know that you haven't been able to post me any news, so why don't you two catch me up? At some point this year, I'm going to find another way for us to keep in contact; mirrors or charmed parchments, something!"

"That's a good idea, Harry," said Hermione. "Okay, as you know because you were given the secret, this is the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. It's a secret society founded by Dumbledore. It's the people who fought against You-Know-Who last time. They don't let us into the meetings, so we don't know everything, but we've got a general idea."

"Fred and George have invented Extendable Ears, you see," said Ron. "They're really useful."

"Extendable—"

"—Ears, yeah. Only we've had to stop using them lately because Mum found out and went berserk. Fred and George had to hide them all to stop Mum binning them. But we got a good bit of use out of them before Mum realized what was going on. We know some of the Order are following known Death Eaters, keeping tabs on them."

"Some of them are working to recruit more people into the Order," said Hermione.

"And some of them are standing guard over something. They're always talking about guard duty."

"That was probably me."

"Oh, yeah."

Harry chuckled at the look of dawning comprehension on Ron's face. "So, since they won't let you be part of the Order, what have you been doing? Other than homework? You said in your letters you've been busy."

"We have, decontaminating this house. It's been empty for ages and stuff's been breeding in here. We've managed to clean out the kitchen, most of the bedrooms, and I think we're doing the drawing room tomo—AARGH!"

With two loud cracks, Fred and George had materialized out of thin air in the middle of the room. The two owls in the room both jumped, and ended up flying to the top of the wardrobe.

"Stop doing that!" yelled Hermione.

Harry was grinning, though. "You two passed your Apparation tests, then?"

"With distinction," said Fred, who was holding on to what looked like a very long flesh-colored piece of string.

"It would have taken you about thirty seconds longer to walk down the stairs," said Ron irritably.

"Time is Galleons, little brother," said Fred. "Anyway, we're trying to hear what's going on downstairs." He held up the string, and Harry realized this must be one of the Extendable Ears.

"You want to be careful," said Ron. "If Mum sees one of them again—"

"It's worth the risk. That's a major meeting they're having."

The door opened again and a long mane of red hair appeared. "Oh hello, Harry!" said Ron's younger sister, Ginny, brightly. Turning to Fred and George she said, "It's no go with the Extendable Ears, she's gone and put an Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door."

"How d'you know?" said George, looking crestfallen.

"Tonks told me how to find out," said Ginny. "You just chuck stuff at the door and if it can't make contact the door's been Imperturbed. I've been flicking Dungbombs at it from the top of the stairs and they just soar away from it, so there's no way the Extendable Ears will be able to get under the gap."

Fred heaved a deep sigh. "Shame. I really fancied finding out what old Snape's been up to."

"Snape?" said Harry, curious. "Is he here?"

"Yeah," said George, carefully closing the door and sitting down on one of the beds; Fred and Ginny followed. "Giving a report. Top secret."

"Git," said Fred idly.

"He's on our side now," said Hermione reprovingly.

Ron snorted. "Doesn't stop him being a git. The way he looks at us when he sees us. . . ."

"Bill doesn't like him either," said Ginny, as though that settled the matter.

"Is Bill here?" he asked. "I thought he was working in Egypt."

So they went through everything that had been happening over the last month, telling him about Bill, and Fleur Delacour, Charlie, Percy, and the smear campaign that the _Daily Prophet_ was running. Of course, Harry had realized what the paper was doing, since he'd been sure to read it through every day, but the other information helped him to tie the whole picture together with what the Ministry was doing. And the fact that Percy believed the Minister and the _Prophet_ over his own family was just horribly sad.

After a while the sound of footsteps on the stairs alerted them to the return of Mrs. Weasley. "Uh-oh." Fred gave the Extendable Ear a hearty tug; there was another loud crack and he and George vanished.

Seconds later, Mrs. Weasley appeared in the bedroom doorway. "The meeting's over, you can come down and have dinner now, everyone's dying to see you, Harry. And who's left all those Dungbombs outside the kitchen door?"

"Crookshanks," said Ginny without a blush. "He loves playing with them."

"Oh," said Mrs. Weasley, "I thought it might have been Kreacher, he keeps doing odd things like that. Now don't forget to keep your voices down in the hall. Ginny, your hands are filthy, what have you been doing? Go and wash them before dinner, please." Ginny grimaced at the others and followed her mother out of the room, leaving Harry alone with Ron and Hermione again.

"Who's Kreacher?" he asked.

"The house-elf who lives here," said Ron. "Nutter. Never met one like him."

Hermione frowned at Ron. "He's not a nutter, Ron—"

"His life's ambition is to have his head cut off and stuck up on a plaque just like his mother," said Ron irritably. "Is that normal, Hermione?"

"Well—well, if he is a bit strange, it's not his fault—"

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry. "Hermione still hasn't given up on spew—"

"It's not 'spew'!" said Hermione heatedly. "It's the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, and it's not just me, Dumbledore says we should be kind to Kreacher too—"

"Hermione," Harry interrupted them, "how would you feel if someone offered you money to bed them?" Harry knew this would shock her, but perhaps it would get her to see.

She balled up her fist. "W-what are you talking about?"

Remembering when she had decked Malfoy in third year, he held up a hand. "Peace. You would be insulted, humiliated, certainly angry. But why?"

"Because that's a horrible assumption! The thought that I would take money for something that should—" she stopped, her eyes widening. Her jaw dropped and her fist loosened. "—be an act of love. Merlin, I've been a fool."

"No. It's not wrong to want to see them treated well, but you have to think about their culture in this, as well. Dobby is the exception to the rule, an elf who was injured and debased so much by his master that he decided he would never again accept an order without compensation, and was willing to betray that master to save my life."

Ron said, "C'mon, I'm starving." He led the way out of the door and onto the landing, but before they could descend the stairs— "Hold it!" Ron breathed, flinging out an arm to stop Harry and Hermione walking any farther. "They're still in the hall, we might be able to hear something—" They saw Professor Snape, and Harry was very curious what he would be doing for the Order, but no clue was given them. Then they heard the door open and close quietly. "Snape never eats here," Ron told Harry quietly. "Thank God. C'mon."

"And don't forget to keep your voice down in the hall, Harry," Hermione whispered.

As they passed the row of house-elf heads on the wall they saw Remus, Mrs. Weasley, and Tonks at the front door, magically sealing its many locks and bolts behind those who had just left. "We're eating down in the kitchen," Mrs. Weasley whispered, meeting them at the bottom of the stairs. "Harry, dear, if you'll just tiptoe across the hall, it's through this door here—"

CRASH.

" _Tonks!_ " cried Mrs. Weasley, turning to look behind her.

"I'm sorry!" wailed Tonks, who was lying flat on the floor. "It's that stupid umbrella stand, that's the second time I've tripped over—"

But the rest of her words were drowned by a horrible, earsplitting, bloodcurdling screech. The moth-eaten velvet curtains Harry had passed earlier had flown apart, but there was no door behind them. For a split second, Harry thought he was looking through a window, a window behind which an old woman in a black cap was screaming and screaming as though she was being tortured—then he realized it was simply a life-size portrait, but the most realistic, and the most unpleasant, he had ever seen in his life. Worse, because his senses were extended, a state which was quickly becoming a habit, he could feel the darkness behind the foul vision.

The old woman was drooling, her eyes were rolling, the yellowing skin of her face stretched taut as she screamed, and all along the hall behind them, the other portraits awoke and began to yell too, so that Harry actually screwed up his eyes at the noise and clapped his hands over his ears, as well as dropped his hold on his magic for relief.

Remus and Mrs. Weasley darted forward and tried to tug the curtains shut over the old woman, but they would not close and she screeched louder than ever, brandishing clawed hands as though trying to tear at their faces.

" _Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers—"_

Tonks apologized over and over again, at the same time dragging the huge, heavy troll's leg back off the floor. Mrs. Weasley abandoned the attempt to close the curtains and hurried up and down the hall, stunning all the other portraits with her wand. Then a man with long black hair came charging out of a door facing Harry.

"Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut UP!" he roared, seizing the curtain Mrs. Weasley had abandoned.

The old woman's face blanched. _"Yoooou!"_ she howled, her eyes popping at the sight of the man. _"Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!"_

"I said—shut—UP!" roared the man, and with a stupendous effort he and Remus managed to force the curtains closed again. The old woman's screeches died and an echoing silence fell. Panting slightly and sweeping his long dark hair out of his eyes, Harry's godfather, Sirius, turned to face him. "Hello, Harry," he said grimly. "I see you've met my mother."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Before dinner, Harry learned that his was Sirius's childhood home, which was why a portrait of his mother was in the hall. They couldn't get rid of her, either, no matter what they tried. Harry vowed to give it a go later in the week. Sirius was going stir crazy, locked in the house with nothing to do, because it was too dangerous for him to be about. Wormtail had to have told Voldemort about him being an Animagus, so it was useless as a disguise.

Harry said, "Hey, I've got an idea. I don't know if it'll work, but let's give it a shot. If you don't mind me changing your hair color a bit, that is?"

"All right, now Remus was going on about you doing wandless magic. That'll come in very handy. You want to try something, go ahead."

So Harry took a deep breath and reconnected to the magic around him. He focused on Sirius's hair, and leached out some of the color. Instead of black, his hair became a warm penny brown. "Now give it a go and let's see if it sticks."

Sirius pulled a strand of hair in front of his face to look at it. "Well that's different. You didn't use a coloring charm."

"No, I actually removed the natural color, only not all of it. Didn't want you looking like a Malfoy." He held up his hand and there was a tiny pile of black dust. "It was more of a banishing charm applied on a microscopic level."

Sirius shrugged, then transformed. If Harry had used a coloring charm, it wouldn't have stuck. His fur would have been black anyway. But this was a more physical effect, and instead of a black dog, he was a reddish-brown dog. He pulled a paw up in front of his face to see it, and then he changed back. "Harry that's brilliant! Now no one will be able to recognize me!"

"And it's semi-permanent. I didn't remove the pigment-making cells in your head, just the pigment that was already in your hair, so it'll come back in black as your hair grows, or if you just want it all back, you could use a hair-growing charm and cut the brown off."

"Wow, Harry! You really did get Lily's brains, didn't you! How did you do that with such fine control? And wandlessly!"

"I've been working on something all summer. It was an idea I got from a story about a group of people called Jedi and their fight to free their galaxy from the evil Emperor!"

"Wait, I've heard that one. Lily dragged all of us to see this Muggle moving picture in a big theater once. Star Fights, or something like that."

"Star _Wars_. And I've never actually seen the films, but they wrote books based on the movies, and Hermione gave me the complete set so I'd have something to do over the summer. What she didn't expect me to do was figure out how to use magic like Luke Skywalker uses the force."

Hermione shook her head. "I've read those books, too. The real how isn't in them, not even when he's training on Dagobah."

"I know. I went to the library there in Surrey. I got everything they had on Star Wars, then on physical fitness, martial arts, and meditation. It took me three tries to find a martial arts book that had sword work, but I've been working every day." He shook his head. "I'll be honest, I was using it to deal with what happened in the grave yard." Harry rubbed his arm where Wormtail had cut it open to get his blood for the ritual. "It really helped me to look at things. I was feeling so guilty. I'm not completely all right; that's going to take time. But now I know I will be.

"Once I knew how to meditate, I began to touch my magic and once I could do that, it was easy enough to let my magic touch the ambient magic of the world around me. I hadn't planned on trying any wandless magic until we were back at school, because I wasn't sure that was how it worked. I was hoping, but I wasn't going to try anything at the Dursleys'.

"Then the dementors came, and I let the magic tell me what to do, just as the Jedi let the force guide them. Because of that and the fact that I'd been practicing with my makeshift practice sword for three weeks, I drew it and used a variant of the Patronus that fit right into the Jedi mythos." He was still wearing his sword across his back since he hadn't had a chance to change clothes, so he stood and drew it to show them. He pulled his magic and his joy at being back in the magical world and said, "gladius Patronum." It wasn't urgent, like it had been before, so the sword filled in a bit more slowly with the light of the Patronus. "It cut through the dementors as if they were air. I don't know if it'll cut anything else, though."

Ron grabbed an apple from the basket on the work table in the middle of the kitchen. "Head's up, Harry!" Then he threw it. Harry caught it one handed, his Seeker reflexes coming into play. He could have tried to cut it mid-air, but if it didn't work, it would have splattered the apple all across the kitchen. Instead, he dropped the apple onto the magical blade.

The apple landed on the floor in two smoking halves. Harry quickly disengaged the blade and Ron reverently said, "Wicked!"

Harry smiled at his friend and sat back down. The wood of the sword was barely warm, and he let Sirius take a look at it.

Meanwhile Fred and George, while trying to help their mother, decided that they would levitate the entire mess to the table, including a large cauldron of stew, an iron flagon of butterbeer, and a heavy wooden breadboard, complete with knife, all hurtling through the air toward them. The stew skidded along the table, leaving a long burn mark, the flagon of butterbeer fell with a crash, spilling its contents everywhere, and the knife skidded off the board. It would have imbedded itself in Sirius's hand, but Harry stopped it midair. Harry'd never tried this before, but unlike Luke Skywalker he had no preconceived notions about gravity, and holding the knife up gave him no trouble.

"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!" screamed Mrs. Weasley. "THERE WAS NO NEED — I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS — JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW YOU DON'T HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!"

"We were just trying to save a bit of time!" said Fred. "Sorry Sirius, Harry—didn't mean to—"

Harry and Sirius were both laughing. Crookshanks had given an angry hiss and shot off under the dresser, from whence his large yellow eyes glowed in the darkness. Harry gently lowered the knife back to the breadboard. "I think you two need a little more control before you try something like that again," said Harry.

"Boys," Mr. Weasley said, lifting the stew back into the middle of the table, "your mother's right, you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now you've come of age—"

"—none of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!" Mrs. Weasley raged at the twins, slamming a fresh flagon of butterbeer onto the table and spilling almost as much again. "Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't Charm everything he met! Percy—" She stopped dead, catching her breath with a frightened look at her husband, whose expression was suddenly wooden.

Harry quietly said, "I'm sorry if I've caused your family any trouble, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley."

She looked at him in shock. "Oh, no, Harry." She took a deep breath. "What Percy has done is his very own fault, and none of yours. I-I just miss him."

Mr. Weasley said, "I love all of my children, including Percy. But he's wrong, for doing what he's done and saying what he's said. That he's said it about you and Dumbledore doesn't make it either of your faults."

"Let's eat," said Bill quietly.

"It looks wonderful, Molly," said Remus, ladling stew onto a plate for her and handing it across the table. For a few minutes eating was silent, then Mrs. Weasley started talking about the cleaning of the house, including a suspected boggart in one of the cabinets and curtains full of doxies. Tonks started making faces at the table, and while the kids were nominally distracted, the adults started talking about Bill's attempt to bring the Goblin Nation to their side, which wasn't working well because the King, Ragnok, was feeling very anti-wizard in general thanks to Ludo Bagman.

Then Sirius tossed a cat among the pigeons. He said to Harry, "You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort."

"I did," Harry said slowly. He noticed that everyone at the table was at attention, and Mrs. Weasley was freaking out. "I'm very concerned that he's going to come after me again, as well as all those who I consider friend or family." He swallowed hard. "Vader did that."

Mrs. Weasley said, "You're only fifteen, Harry. It's not your job to worry about all of this. It is the job of the responsible adults to protect you, not the other way around." She glared at Sirius.

"That has never stopped him before, Mrs. Weasley." Harry shrugged. "I'm not asking for anyone to give me information that would put someone in danger. But I will ask to be informed if something directly affects my safety or that of my friends. I think we can be smart about it, don't you? I think I should have been warned that the Ministry might try and get me expelled, for instance. I did all right, but more information could have helped me avoid the situation all together."

Everyone seemed surprised. "You're not just going to dash off after him if you know where he is and what he's doing?" asked Remus. He was the calmest of the adults at the table, and he knew Harry well enough to ask the right questions in the right way. He'd told Harry by the question exactly what Mrs. Weasley was afraid of.

Harry snorted. "Okay, I know I have a bad track record. To be fair, in first year, when we three went after the Philosopher's Stone, it was because we tried to warn people and they wouldn't listen. Second year, me and Ron went to Lockhart to tell him what we knew, and he tried to Obliviate us. He did it again down in the Chamber, but he'd stolen Ron's wand to do it, and Ron's wand was broken, so it backfired on him. At that point we couldn't do anything else. There wasn't enough time. We went after Sirius in third year because he had Ron, and then we went to rescue him at Dumbledore's urging. And the Tournament was not my choice.

"That said, I can't continue to be kept in the dark." He looked right at Mrs. Weasley. "It's going to get someone killed."

"Harry," she began, "you are not your father, you're only a boy—"

"No. I am also a target. So are my friends and my family. Your children and Hermione have chosen to align themselves with me out of friendship. Sirius is my godfather. My Aunt and cousin are actually starting to care for me as family, which is a very new situation. You and Mr. Weasley have always cared for me like I was one of your own. And Voldemort would cheerfully torture any one of you to bring me out of hiding."

Hermione spoke up timidly. "Harry, you think You-Know-Who is going to do what Vader did, torturing a friend to get you to go off halfcocked?"

"I do. I just don't know how he's going to do the taunting. Unless—" Harry thought furiously. It could be. He remembered a dream he'd had, just a night or two before the dementor attack, a dream of a door in a corridor. "Do you think he knows about our link? That would do it. With Luke, Vader knew that he would sense his friends' pain through the force once he progressed far enough, and that as his son he had the same weaknesses that allowed the Emperor to get his hooks into him."

"Snape does think Voldemort knows about your link to him," said Sirius.

Harry sat back in his chair, just thinking about that for a moment or two. "And the Order is trying to both recruit for itself and prevent others from joining him?"

"Yes."

Mrs. Weasley looked like she wanted to explode, but Harry kept on. "I've seen the smearing the Prophet's been doing of me and Dumbledore, and based on his reaction in the hospital wing in June, I'm guessing it's Fudge who's behind all of that. Why's he acting like that?"

"Because he'd rather believe that Dumbledore is trying to make a power grab than that Voldemort is back, and Rita Skeeter's foul reporting gave him the excuse he needed to believe it," said Remus.

Mr. Weasley said, "And while the Ministry and the _Prophet_ both say that you're crazy and Dumbledore is a liar, it makes it very hard for the random wizard on the street to believe the truth."

"And of course most of the people in the Order either can't afford to pop off about it or wouldn't be believed anyway," said Harry. "And Sirius would be arrested and Kissed." He looked up from the table to Sirius. "I want you to learn the Lightsaber Charm, Sirius, and we need to practice with it, see what is actually needed for it to work. I've been working with what I already had on hand, but other things might work better." He paused, a thought coming to him. "What could I do to prevent Voldemort from using the link?"

"Well, you've already started, I think," said Sirius. "It's called Occulmency, and it takes the kind of mental training you seem to have taken upon yourself to learn. I've got a book on it around here somewhere, I'll make sure you get it. But at some point you'll need someone to attempt to attack your defenses so that you can see how well you've done. And while you're at school, you should use your wand. You spoke of operational security earlier, and I think that skill of yours should be a secret known only to those you trust."

Remus nodded, and Mr. Weasley said, "I agree. It would certainly be an ace in the hole if you needed one."

"So Voldemort is basically allowing the Ministry to do his work for him at this point. He doesn't want to openly attack people right now because he's doing something he needs to be secret first."

Sirius smirked at him. "Have you been studying strategy, too?" Harry grinned in return. "Well you're not wrong, and once he has it, he'll change his tactics. Once he's sure he can win, he'll start attacking more openly."

Harry nodded. "That makes sense."

"All right, that's enough!" said Mrs. Weasley. "I agree that Harry needs to know enough to defend himself in an emergency, but you've told him and everyone else here plenty. Everyone to bed. Now."

"Yeah," agreed Harry. "It's been a long night. I've got a lot of homework to finish, and I want to read that book of Sirius's, and I also know that you were wanting to work on the drawing room tomorrow. Sirius, do you have a back garden where I can set up a treadmill or something? I don't want to get behind with my physical training."

Sirius nodded. "There is. It needs cleaning up a lot, though."

Harry grinned. "I'll help with that. I'm good at weeding a garden."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Mrs. Weasley was intent on keeping the children out of the fight, and she didn't trust them to agree to it, so she did her best to keep them all busy. Following breakfast they were all herded into the drawing room to deal with the doxy infestation, as it was much worse than she had originally thought.

Doxys were a type of fairy, covered in black hair, and sporting very sharp tiny teeth. Their bite was also poisonous. Everyone was spraying the curtains with Doxycide, and the little blighters themselves. More than one person cast aspersions against the house elf Kreacher, which angered Hermione, but she wasn't convincing anyone about this particular elf. He was downright nasty, and he was completely in love with Walburga Black.

"Kreacher's old. He probably couldn't manage—"

"You'd be surprised what Kreacher can manage when he wants to, Hermione," said Sirius, who had just entered the room carrying a bloodstained bag of what appeared to be dead rats. "I've just been feeding Buckbeak," he added, in reply to Harry's inquiring look. "I keep him upstairs in my mother's bedroom. Anyway, this writing desk—" He dropped the bag of rats onto an armchair, then bent over to examine the locked cabinet which, Harry now noticed for the first time, was shaking slightly.

"Well, Molly, I'm pretty sure this is a boggart," said Sirius, peering through the keyhole, "but perhaps we ought to let Mad-Eye have a shifty at it before we let it out—knowing my mother it could be something much worse."

"Right you are, Sirius," said Mrs. Weasley.

A loud, clanging bell sounded from downstairs, followed at once by the cacophony of screams and wails that had been triggered the previous night by Tonks knocking over the umbrella stand.

"I keep telling them not to ring the doorbell!" said Sirius exasperatedly, hurrying back out of the room. They heard him thundering down the stairs as Mrs. Black's screeches echoed up through the house once more: " _Stains of dishonor, filthy half-breeds, blood traitors, children of filth . . ._ "

"Close the door, please, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley.

Harry agreed, not wanting to hear any more of the old woman's vile invective. Fred and George pocketed more than a few of the unconscious doxys as they were working. They mentioned that they were still doing product development for their joke shop, and they wanted to experiment with doxy venom. It took all morning to round the tiny beasts up, they and their eggs all put into a bowl, which Fred and George were looking greedily at.

Mrs. Weasley took the scarf she'd been breathing through off of her face and ran a hand through her hair. "I think we'll tackle those after lunch." She indicated the dusty glass-fronted cabinets on either side of the mantelpiece. They were crammed with all number of horrible and interesting things, including an ornate crystal bottle with a large opal set into the stopper. Harry was almost sure it was full of blood, and the thought sent a chill up his spine.

That was when Mundungus Fletcher showed up at the front door with the stolen cauldrons he'd bought. Mrs. Weasley went downstairs to berate him for his foolishness, setting off Mrs. Black, and all together affording the cleaners a short break, and a meeting with a most unusual house elf named Kreacher. The Weasleys disdained him, and Hermione wanted them to show him respect, without herself showing respect to the Weasleys for the fact that the elf was insulting both them and herself.

Following the urging of the ambient magic, Harry reached out to the elf with his magic, with just enough influence to make him want to answer questions, then he asked him, "Kreacher, to a point, I understand why a pureblood woman such as your Mistress would despise us. What I would like to know, and I demand an honest answer, is why do _you_?"

"Because it upsets Mistress so."

Slowly, Harry nodded. Everyone else was giving him strange looks, but he had to concentrate on the insane creature before him. The Muggles had a word for this: Stockholm Syndrome. He'd been trapped by his abusers so long that he had come to rely on them, even to love them. He'd be very surprised if most house elves didn't suffer from some form of it. "Was Mistress Black your favorite of this family?"

"No." Harry fought to keep from expressing his surprise. "That was Master Regulus." An actual smile came to Kreacher's face. A subtle urging came from the magic in the air, a softer memory coming from the elf that Harry wanted to nurture. "Young Master was kind to Kreacher, said Kreacher was his very own elf. He needed help with something for the Dark Lord, and Kreacher was honored to help. Master Regulus gave him the locket, said to destroy it. But Kreacher could not! Kreacher tried everything he could, but it would not break! Kreacher failed in his orders!"

Harry saw that he was starting to panic, and would have begun to punish himself. "Easy, Kreacher." He sent calming waves out with his magic, willing the elf not to harm himself. "What was the thing that Master Regulus wanted you to destroy?"

Kreacher pointed to a heavy locket inside the glass cabinet. It was gold and embossed with a stylized green "S". "Tell me the story, Kreacher. Perhaps I can help you to finish Master Regulus's work."

"Master Sirius ran away, good riddance, for he was a bad boy and broke my Mistress's heart with his lawless ways. But Master Regulus had proper pride; he knew what was due to the name of Black and the dignity of his pure blood. For years he talked of the Dark Lord, who was going to bring the wizards out of hiding to rule the Muggles and the Muggle-borns . . . and when he was sixteen years old, Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord. So proud, so proud, so happy to serve . . .

"And one day, a year after he had joined, Master Regulus came down to the kitchen to see Kreacher. Master Regulus always liked Kreacher. And Master Regulus said . . . he said . . . he said that the Dark Lord required an elf."

"Voldemort needed an elf?" Harry repeated, looking around at the others, who looked just as puzzled as he did. Sirius had come into the room as well, but was quiet so as not to interrupt the tableau.

"Oh yes," moaned Kreacher. "And Master Regulus had volunteered Kreacher. It was an honor, said Master Regulus, an honor for him and for Kreacher, who must be sure to do whatever the Dark Lord ordered him to do . . . and then to c-come home. So Kreacher went to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord did not tell Kreacher what they were to do, but took Kreacher with him to a cave beside the sea. And beyond the cave there was a cavern, and in the cavern was a great black lake . . ." The hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood up. Kreacher's croaking voice seemed to come to him from across that dark water. He saw what had happened as clearly as though he had been present.

". . . There was a boat . . There was a b-basin full of potion on the island. The D-Dark Lord made Kreacher drink it. . . ." The elf quaked from head to foot. "Kreacher drank, and as he drank, he saw terrible things. . . . Kreacher's insides burned. . . . Kreacher cried for Master Regulus to save him, he cried for his Mistress Black, but the Dark Lord only laughed. . . . He made Kreacher drink all the potion. . . . He dropped a locket into the empty basin. . . . He filled it with more potion.

"And then the Dark Lord sailed away, leaving Kreacher on the island. . . ." Harry could see it happening. In his mind's eye, he watched Voldemort's white, snakelike face vanishing into darkness, those red eyes fixed pitilessly on the thrashing elf whose death would occur within minutes, whenever he succumbed to the desperate thirst that the burning potion caused its victim. . . . But here, Harry's imagination could go no further, for he could not see how Kreacher had escaped. "Kreacher needed water, he crawled to the island's edge and he drank from the black lake . . . and hands, dead hands, came out of the water and dragged Kreacher under the surface. . . ."

"How did you get away?" Harry asked, and he was not surprised to hear himself whispering. Kreacher raised his ugly head and looked at Harry with his great, bloodshot eyes.

"Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back," he said.

"And the Dark One didn't expect you to be able to do that, did he?" said Harry, mostly to himself. Of course Voldemort would underestimate the magic of what he would consider to be a creature far beneath his notice, save for the fact that they would do his bidding without question.

"Well, then, you did what you were told, didn't you?" said Hermione kindly. "You didn't disobey orders at all!"

But Kreacher shook his head.

"So what happened when you got back?" Harry asked. "What did Regulus say when you told him what had happened?"

"Master Regulus was very worried, very worried," croaked Kreacher. "Master Regulus told Kreacher to stay hidden and not to leave the house. And then . . . it was a little while later . . . Master Regulus came to find Kreacher in his cupboard one night, and Master Regulus was strange, not as he usually was, disturbed in his mind, Kreacher could tell . . . and he asked Kreacher to take him to the cave, the cave where Kreacher had gone with the Dark Lord. . . ."

"And he made you drink the potion?" said Harry, disgusted. But Kreacher shook his head and wept. Hermione's hands leapt to her mouth: She seemed to have understood something. "M-Master Regulus took from his pocket a locket like the one the Dark Lord had," said Kreacher, tears pouring down either side of his snoutlike nose. "And he told Kreacher to take it and, when the basin was empty, to switch the lockets. . . ." Kreacher's sobs came in great rasps now; Harry had to concentrate hard to understand him. "And he ordered—Kreacher to leave—without him. And he told Kreacher—to go home—and never to tell my Mistress—what he had done—but to destroy—the first locket. And he drank—all the potion—and Kreacher swapped the lockets—and watched . . . as Master Regulus . . . was dragged beneath the water . . . and . . ."

"Oh, Kreacher!" wailed Hermione, who was crying.

"So you brought the locket home," Harry said relentlessly, for he was determined to know the full story, instinctively knowing this was information that no one else had, information they needed. "And you tried to destroy it?"

"Nothing Kreacher did made any mark upon it," moaned the elf. "Kreacher tried everything, everything he knew, but nothing, nothing would work. . . . So many powerful spells upon the casing, Kreacher was sure the way to destroy it was to get inside it, but it would not open. . . . Kreacher punished himself, he tried again, he punished himself, he tried again. Kreacher failed to obey orders, Kreacher could not destroy the locket! And his Mistress was mad with grief, because Master Regulus had disappeared, and Kreacher could not tell her what had happened, no, because Master Regulus had f-f-forbidden him to tell any of the f-f-family what happened in the c-cave. . . ." Kreacher began to sob so hard that there were no more coherent words.

Harry shook his head. They'd get no more out of him, but what they had gotten was plenty. He reached out with his magic, and with a very brief touch against the elf's mind to help him, ordered him, "Sleep, Kreacher."

Everyone was stunned. Sirius stepped carefully around where the elf was sleeping fitfully, still crying and unable to rest. "Amazing, Harry. What made you think to question him?"

"Stockholm Syndrome. It's a Muggle term for when a slave or prisoner becomes dependent upon his master or captor for survival. House elves certainly have it, probably to an entity, even Dobby who disobeyed his masters to save my life. He adopted their attitudes as his own." He looked up at Sirius. "Who was Regulus?"

"My little brother." Sirius's voice was small. "I knew he'd joined the Death Eaters, but I didn't know he'd defied Voldemort, or that he'd died doing it." He swallowed thickly. "I'd never have thought he'd have the courage to do it, even if he suddenly decided that Voldemort was wrong." He sighed. "And of course I couldn't help him. There was too much bad blood between us. He knew he couldn't come to me, because I wouldn't believe it."

As one they turned to the cabinet with the locket in it. Harry probed it with his magic, and when Sirius would have picked it up, Harry grabbed his arm to stop him. "Don't touch it. That thing feels foul. In fact, it feels familiar. It—" He flipped through his memories. "Riddle's diary." Ginny flinched. "It reminds me of Tom Riddle's diary, only even darker and more evil. If it's similar—well he made the diary when he was sixteen. He must have been an adult by the time he made this one. What kind of enchantment could that be?"

"I—I don't know," said Sirius. "But I bet Moody does. How did you destroy the diary, Harry?"

"I stabbed it with the fang of Slytherin's basilisk that he kept in the Chamber of Secrets."

"I'll ask Moody tonight."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Note: I know I'm skipping around a bit(or a lot), but even though I'm using the material already in place, I'm changing Harry himself quite a bit at this point, and perhaps others later.


	3. Learner

**Chapter Three: Learner**

 _Note about this chapter: Only the original three movie novelizations and some supplemental material are being used here from the Star Wars universes. I know much more is available, but it was not available to Harry at the Surrey Library in 1995. Remember, he hasn't even seen the movies yet, nor did he read any of what is now being called the Legends universe. He did get_ A Guide to the Star Wars Universe _out, so he had a good visual to base his visual image of what a lightsaber should look like on. Also, the baking scene is totally me, and for exactly the reasons mentioned._

 _5 points to whoever gets the joke on the author of the Defense book, and to whoever can guess who Harry's quoting when he talks to Mrs. Weasley._

Harry, with Remus and Sirius's help as well as Hermione and the Weasleys, set up a workout space in the back garden with a magical treadmill and a place to work out both physically and mentally. Remembering the titles of all the books he'd gotten from the library, he gave a list of them to Remus and asked him to see if he could find them for sale, promising to give him the money for the items once he had a chance to go to Gringott's. Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the twins started working out with him, and learning some of what he'd learned, but he was reluctant to begin sparring with anyone because he hadn't yet had a personal instructor and didn't have much idea of how to fight another person with a sword. He wanted to find them an instructor for that.

Professor Dumbledore came to destroy the cursed locket, and upon learning what Harry'd been up to, he wanted to have a chat with him. He took Harry outside to talk to him away from the prying ears of his peers. "So, I hear you've had a busy summer."

Harry grinned. "A bit."

With twinkling eyes, Dumbledore said, "I'd like to know about what you've been learning from these non-magical books, Harry, to see if there's something in them we might incorporate into the regular school curriculum."

"It's a lot of hard work, Professor. I've noticed that most magic is used to make less work for folk. I don't know if people would sign up for it. Ravenclaw might, because of the study benefits I've noticed that come with meditation, but physical exertion and sword work are probably a bit too Muggle for most wizards."

Professor Dumbledore nodded. "You're probably right. But there are often ways to get around that. Now, the running I understand. It's a great way to build endurance, and I've known many a Quidditch player to have a running regimen. But what prompted all of this?"

"Hermione gave me a book. I know, big shocker. But this was a story, purely fictional, and from the Muggle world. She just wanted to get my mind off of things. I probably won't be able to replicate everything, but magic listens to us, to what we want. That's why accidental magic can happen. I read this book, this story about a fictional order of warrior monks called Jedi, and about the perils of seeking power for the wrong reasons, and about the source of their power, which they called the Force. I think the author might be a wizard or a squib, because I realized that magic can work like he's talking about. I was even able to duplicate one of their weapons."

Harry was no longer using the cut-off non-magical broomstick but a wooden practice sword made of oak. Remus had transfigured it for him, and when he'd conjured his lightsaber it had burned the stag-at-bay symbol into the wood of the blade. He drew the sword now from the sheath on his back. "This one's oak, but I'm going to try some experiments with different woods, and with the possibility of a grip only. The lightsaber in the stories is a machine, and it's only a handle which produces a blade of high-energy plasma. I don't know if that will work for sure, or not, though."

"May I see it?"

Harry nodded and stood. He concentrated on the false vision he'd been given by the Mirror of Erised of himself with his family, knowing it was his happiest memory despite being false, and called the blade silently. The brilliant white Patronus material extended over the wood until only the handle remained. "I've been working on silent casting, as well, now that I can cast wandlessly."

The Headmaster's eyes never left the blade. "Remarkable. Can it be used by anyone else?"

"Like if I drop it? No. If it's not in my hand, the blade dissipates immediately. And you have to be able to produce a full Patronus in order to be able to do it."

The aged wizard nodded in agreement. "That makes sense. Remus mentioned you wanting to find an instructor in Muggle martial arts. Would this be why?"

"Yes, and preferably one who at least knows about the wizarding world. I shouldn't have to keep magic a secret while trying to learn something like that. I also don't want to assume I'm doing this right, learning it from books, and there be something I'm missing, and then pass on the mistake by teaching others." Harry had a thought. "Is there a magical form of martial arts?"

"Not beyond dueling. But there have been many wizards in the past who used martial arts and weaponry in dueling and magical combat." Professor Dumbledore sat back, thinking. "You know, I did make the acquaintance of a young man from South Korea at the beginning of World War II. He was quite accomplished in aikido and kung fu, but he was also a wizard, and he sought to use the discipline to his advantage against opponents who only expect spellwork. I remember him being quite accomplished in the use of the Katana sword."

Harry asked, "Would he help us against Voldemort, do you think?"

Dumbledore smiled at Harry, his eyes twinkling madly. "I think it would be an excellent idea to ask him, at the very least. I might even ask him for help in another area, namely the yet-vacant Defense Professorship."

"Rumor has it that position's cursed."

"Rumor has it right, but if he only signs on to serve in that capacity for a year, it shouldn't harm him. I want to commend you, Harry, both for your kindness toward Kreacher, and for your emerging ability to innovate. It gives me great hope in the coming conflict."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Harry continued his routine, using the magical treadmill in the back garden for his running, and the space of the garden for his kata and meditations. He also sent a few business letters to Gringott's, ensuring that the Dursleys received their prize money and that Remus got his money back for the books. He asked Gringott's to send the money to the Dursleys as if it were the prize for the contest and they had simply missed it, and to send it through regular post. He also worked on his summer homework.

Then one day, while in the middle of his sword kata, there was suddenly a man standing in front of him with an oaken sword much like his own. Burned into the wood was the image of a crane with outspread wings. He was a small man, not much taller than Harry, but he was aged, with weathered golden skin and crinkled almond eyes. His eyebrows were black, but he had no other hair on his head, nor a beard. He said nothing, but slowly brought his sword into the first position. Not sure what was going on, Harry did the same, then watched as the man brought went to the second position, that of the attacker. Harry opened his mind to the magic around him, then nodded his readiness, and there was no further warning or communication. The man was on Harry hard and fast, the hollow bark of wood on wood echoing off the anti-Muggle wards and fences.

They sparred for twenty minutes, the magic flowing through Harry and giving him warnings and guidance as to where and how his opponent would strike. Strike upon strike was exchanged, going beyond the forms of aikido into the testing of a master against an amateur in mock battle. Nor did the master confine himself to the sword, but he tested him with foot, fist and wand, as well. Harry did not come out unscathed, receiving solid hits and a swift kick to the ribs, but he didn't get skunked either, landing a few of his own hits on the master's body, twice with the sword and once with the fist. Neither landed a hex on the other, however, even though Harry did surprise his opponent with his use of wandless magic.

Then suddenly the old man did a back-summersault to put some distance between them. Harry didn't take his eyes off of him, and what he did next made Harry grin. The old man had learnt Harry's trick, and now his sword was a lightsaber. Harry lit up his own blade with the Patronus light, and then the old man re-engaged, this time, much more slowly by mutual consent. Neither was used to this form of fighting, and it made sense to use caution with a weapon that could cut bits off of you without even trying. This time they weren't sparring, but testing their weapons, and Harry grinned with satisfaction at the buzzing that they made as they clashed against one another.

And then the old man had one more trick up his sleeve. He pulled a wand from somewhere in his robes and fired a stunner at Harry, but he was so deep into the magic that he quickly moved the blade to intercept the spell. It was rebounded off of the blade to strike the fence and knock a board loose. The old man's eyebrows flew upward, and he deactivated his blade. Observing duel courtesy, Harry did the same, and the two bowed to each other in respect.

The man returned his sword to its scabbard, which was resting samurai style across the small of his back, and Harry to his more ninja style setup, diagonally across his spine from the right shoulder to the left hip, which was more convenient for moving through tight spaces. "Dumbledore told me I would find a good student in you, Harry Potter. For having done this on your own, with no instruction, you have done very well. And we both of us have much to learn with your new technique. But you still have plenty to learn from the sword before you light it on fire, young one. I will gladly teach you, if you agree to be my student in this. He has asked me to teach your defense class, as well, and I will do so, for one year only, because it will help him keep the Ministry out of his school. But you will be my only true student. In the parlance of the Jedi, I will be the Master, and you will be the learner, though in many things we will be learning together. Do you accept?"

Harry felt the man out with his magic, searching through his aura. Most adults he had done this with had at least a little darkness; guilt, regret, anger, even vengeance. This man had much less of it than any of them, even Dumbledore. While he was nowhere near as powerful as Dumbledore, he was a much lighter soul. "Before I answer, may I have your name?"

"Kang Pitei-Kusan."

"I would be glad to have you as my teacher, Master Kang."

"You are wise for one so young. How did you know that my first name is my family name?"

Here Harry blushed a bit, though. "Um, from the telly, Master."

But Kang laughed out loud. "Much you have taken from the world of the non-magical, and you are wise enough not to boast. You and I will do well together, my student. Another question. Why do you trust me? Could I not be from this dark lord of yours?"

"No one with an aura that full of light could be _his,_ Master."

Kang nodded. "So you can see auras? This is a marvelous gift, and one that will serve you well in such dark times."

"I can see them because of the ambient magic. Seriously, I'm ready to start calling it the force, because that's how it acts. George Lucas must either be a Squib or a Muggle family member, because once I learned what to look for, that's exactly what it acts like."

"And yet, no wizard would use magic the way you have been using it. I do not say you are wrong, but there is a piece missing from that puzzle, and to be frank, it is not the most important puzzle on your table. Now, with a student of martial arts, under normal circumstances, I would be called sensei. However, since it is a Jedi you wish to become, I will accept you calling me Master instead. I make but one stipulation, and that is that while I am teaching you among your peers in the school you must call me Professor along with everyone else. My giving you private instruction must not become known to the student body."

Harry understood that perfectly. "Yes, Master."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Harry knew that it would be different learning from a human instructor than it had been learning from books. He'd hung around Hermione for too long not to realize that. But what he didn't realize is just how much better it would be for him. There were times when he thought he would collapse from exhaustion working with Master Kang, and others where he did nothing but teach him better meditation techniques. He introduced him to the art of Occulmensy, and started teaching him strategy and tactics. He brought Ron in to those discussions, given Ron's ability at chess, knowing he would be able to help Harry in a lot of ways.

But he couldn't take the lessons very far due to the fact that the school year was about to start. He had to leave for Hogwarts and get his lesson plans ready for the rest of the student body, and he had to do it before the Ministry could insert their own teacher into the position. On the day he left, he said, "At the school, I will not be able to show you partiality, my student. So I will give you your instructions now. Take your runs around the lake, and continue to increase your difficulty every week to stay in shape. I will set aside a sparring time for us on the weekends, but you must find a time and place to practice in between times. Meditate and practice Occulmensy every night. Use those exercises both to protect your mind from the Dark One and to help you to control your emotions. Since we believe that Mr. Lucas is aware of magic, and because you are using magic as if it were the force, we should be wary of his warnings. Beware fear and anger, especially while using magic, but even while you are not. Never use magic in anger. Remember that fear and anger will come, but only you can prevent them from becoming hatred and darkness.

"And now I must leave you with one last caution. The Ministry is going to attempt to take over Hogwarts School this year. The Minister fears Dumbledore and you, that you want his power and are using these rumors of Voldemort to grab that power. It does not matter to him that what you told him is the truth. He cannot believe you because he fears it so, and so he will try to discredit you and suppress you through his agent. Be mindful of your feelings and of your surroundings, and take comfort in your friends and in the knowledge that they are not stopping you from preparing for the battles you face." He bowed at the waist, and Harry bowed as well. "May the Force be with you, my student."

Harry grinned. "And with you, my master."

His eyes twinkling with merriment, Master Kang Apparated out of Grimmauld Place, presumably to the Hogwarts Apparation point. Harry left the garden then, and went to help Mrs. Weasley with lunch. She pointed him to the ingredients for the stew she was building for dinner instead. "Would you mind chopping these for me, Harry? Kingsley is bringing in a small arm roast, and I thought I'd build a nice stew."

Harry nodded and got to work on the vegetables. "Would you like me to make some bread as well?"

"You know how to do that?"

Harry shrugged. "Aunt Petunia taught me how to bake and cook." He didn't want to talk about why she had taught him, but he was willing to use that knowledge.

Mrs. Weasley looked at him as if she were trying to figure him out, but finally nodded and went back to the sandwiches she was building for lunch. Once the stew was in the cauldron and hovering over the fire, Harry started the bread by mixing yeast, warm milk, olive oil and honey in a stone bowl. When the mixture started bubbling a little, he started adding flour to it until he had a soft, slightly sticky dough. He sat it on the counter to rise while he started mixing the ingredients for a cake.

He got another, smaller stone bowl out, and a small sauce pan and went to work, boiling water, butter and cocoa on the stove, and mixing flour, sugar, cinnamon and baking powder in the bowl. He mixed the two together, then added milk, salt and eggs, then poured it into a cake pan and put it in the oven.

By then the dough was ready for its second go, so he punched it down, split it into two pieces, and kneaded each one on the floured counter. Then put each piece into a bread pan, took the cake out of the oven and turned the temperature down to about 38C and put the two bread pans in with a pan of hot water to proof the dough.

He ate his sandwiches in the kitchen while it was working, then turned the oven back up to bake the bread. He then noticed that Mrs. Weasley had made several sheets of biscuits, and as he pulled out the bread, she slid the biscuits in, grinning at him. He thumped each loaf, pleased with the hollow sound. They were perfectly done.

Three hours from the time they'd started, everything was finished, and dinner was ready. "What brought this on, Harry?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

He smiled at her, tired, but happy. "I like baking. It's kind of the opposite of meditation, a chance to let your brain just rest for a while. And then you get to eat what you made!"

She just laughed at that, pleased with the honest answer.

That night, those of the Weasleys and the Order, along with Harry and Hermione, who were staying at Headquarters ate the stew, one loaf of Harry's bread and the cake for desert. The meal got rave reviews from the whole table, especially the hungry teenaged boys. They fried slices of the bread in the morning with eggs and served it with biscuits, tea and jam.

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

On the thirtieth, the school owls finally arrived, and there were only two new books on the list: _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5_ , by Miranda Goshawk and _Defense and Magic_ , by Peter Caine. Ron and Hermione's letters also contained prefect badges. Hermione's was expected by all and sundry, but Ron's met with his brothers' utter shock. Harry just smiled for his friend. "Congratulations!" Once certain that Harry was okay with it, Ron grinned as well, and thanked him.

Of course, Fred and George had to tease their brother, once they got over the shock of the badge not having gone to Harry, but Mrs. Weasley was ever so pleased. When she went to Diagon Alley to buy everyone's school books, she also bought Ron a new Cleansweep. She made a special dinner to congratulate Ron and Hermione.

Moody gave him a picture that night, a wizarding photograph of the original Order of the Phoenix, including both his and Neville's parents. He went on about how people in the photo had been killed, injured, or cursed into insanity, and Harry couldn't help but notice Peter Pettigrew standing next to his parents.

Mrs. Weasley had a great deal of trouble that night dealing with a boggart that had moved into the writing desk in the drawing room. It kept showing her family, dead. Harry came upon her cowering in the corner of the room, and facing a very dead Ron. But Harry could see the magic, knew it was a boggart. He raised his hand at the creature and shouted, " _Riddikulus_!"

With a loud _crack_ the boggart became Harry, only it was a Harry dressed all in black, his face thin and sallow with a look of cruelty that he had never actually expressed, and eyes that had turned a virulent yellow, rimmed in red. Harry understood, though. This was his own dark side, if he ever allowed himself to fall. He understood the dangers, and knew that, should this ever happen, he would be as dangerous as Voldemort. But he also understood that this was a boggart, not a vision of the future, and not actually dangerous. He said it again, his hand once again flashing with the magic of the spell, and suddenly the phantom Harry was wearing a clown outfit, complete with a big red nose.

Remus had come in behind him and saw the whole thing. This time he distracted the boggart, which became a full moon, then a balloon, then the clown was holding the balloon, then it vanished in a puff of smoke. Harry went to Mrs. Weasley, who was now crying, and pulled her into a hug, which she obviously needed, because for a moment she couldn't let go of him. Remus knelt down next to them. "Molly? Molly, it was just a boggart," he said soothingly.

"I see them d-d-dead all the time!" Mrs. Weasley moaned into his shoulder. "All the t-t-time! I d-d-dream about it . . ."

Sirius was staring at the patch of carpet where the boggart, pretending to be Harry as a dark wizard had stood. Moody was looking at Harry, who avoided his gaze. He had a funny feeling Moody's magical eye had followed him all the way out of the kitchen, and he had therefore seen what Harry feared the most; himself following the same path as Voldemort, as Darth Vader.

"D-d-don't tell Arthur," Mrs. Weasley was gulping now, mopping her eyes frantically with her cuffs. "I d-d-don't want him to know. . . . Being silly . . ."

Remus handed her a handkerchief and she blew her nose.

"Harry, I'm so sorry, what must you think of me?" she said shakily. "Not even able to get rid of a boggart . . ."

"Don't be stupid," said Harry, trying to smile.

"I'm just s-s-so worried," she said, tears spilling out of her eyes again. "Half the f-f-family's in the Order, it'll b-b-be a miracle if we all come through this. . . . and P-P-Percy's not talking to us. . . . What if something d-d-dreadful happens and we had never m-m-made up? And what's going to happen if Arthur and I get killed, who's g-g-going to look after Ron and Ginny?"

"Molly, that's enough," said Remus firmly. "This isn't like last time. The Order is better prepared, we've got a head start, we know what Voldemort's up to—"

Mrs. Weasley gave a little squeak of fright at the sound of the name. "Oh, Molly, come on, it's about time you got used to hearing it—look, I can't promise no one's going to get hurt, nobody can promise that, but we're much better off than we were last time, you weren't in the Order then, you don't understand, last time we were outnumbered twenty to one by the Death Eaters and they were picking us off one by one. . . ."

Harry thought of the photograph again, of his parents' beaming faces. He knew Moody was still watching him.

"Don't worry about Percy," said Sirius abruptly. "He'll come round. It's a matter of time before Voldemort moves into the open; once he does, the whole Ministry's going to be begging us to forgive them. And I'm not sure I'll be accepting their apology," he added bitterly.

"And as for who's going to look after Ron and Ginny if you and Arthur died," said Remus, smiling slightly, "what do you think we'd do, let them starve?"

Mrs. Weasley smiled tremulously. "Being silly," she muttered again, mopping her eyes.

"We all have fears, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry. "We just have to make sure we don't give in to them or let them control us."

"What did yours mean, Harry, the way it looked as your fear …."

He suppressed a shudder. "That's me, if ever I follow the path of either Tom Riddle or Anakin Skywalker."

Remus nodded in understanding. "You'll never do what they did, Harry."

But Harry shook his head. "Aside from the decidedly wooly subject of Divination, no one can know the future. I fear it because I know it is possible. But I don't fear it so that I will let that fear rule me. Instead, I will do everything in my power to prevent it, by being prepared. And that's what you must do as well, Mrs. Weasley. Help your family to be prepared, so that your fear doesn't come true."

"You mean tell them everything and teach them how to fight, don't you?" Mrs. Weasley said, somewhat bitterly.

He shrugged. "'Those who have not swords can still die upon them.' Look, we both have to be aware of the possibility of our fears coming true, but the point of knowing is to stop it happening. I know that it is possible for me to be turned. You know that it is possible for your family members to be killed. So we do everything we can to stop it from happening. Preventing them from fighting won't stop them from dying, and it won't stop me from turning. Instead, we all have to be prepared to defend ourselves, be it from offensive magic or from emotions like fear and anger."

"I know you're right, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, "but that does not make it easy for me to see my family fighting."

"So we end this as soon as possible."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

That night, sitting on his bed in the room that he and Ron were sharing, Harry meditated long on the coming school year, and on the battles they would soon face. He thought of Voldemort, and of what could make a young man go dark like he had done, of what could cause _him_ to go dark. Luke had almost turned, his fear for his friends and his sister making him lash out in anger against his father. It was certainly a fear he shared. The thought of Death Eaters, or Voldemort himself, getting hold of any of them was more than enough to chill his blood, and he knew that he could get that angry if they were to come to harm.

As if the thought had summoned it, Harry's scar flared to life. He frowned, even in meditation, and opened his senses to the scar, to what was causing the pain. He saw it, that another person's magic was sitting there. Comparing it to colors, his own golden aura had been invaded by an acid green tumor, and little tendrils of energy had escaped the main mass to connect to him in various ways. He also saw that the mass had a massive cord that was leaving Harry and extending off into the distance, somewhere to the northwest. That had to be where Voldemort was at that moment.

Harry wondered, looking the mass of foreign magic over, if he would be able to remove the mass. In his mind, he isolated one of the invading strands of magic. Then he sent a filament of pure magic into it and cut it. Pain flared through his scar as the mass reacted, but that actually encouraged Harry. He watched the mass carefully, and it did not snake out another tendril to replace the one he'd cut.

Emboldened, Harry cut another strand, and another. He was vaguely aware that he was screaming from the pain of it, but he didn't want to stop. He knew that this part of Voldemort connected him somehow, and he wanted no part of the other man's darkness. He just kept cutting the strands, until finally he came to the last and thickest of them.

Suddenly Voldemort's voice was in his head. _How dare you attack me!?_

 _Surely you can't_ want _to remain connected to me? This thing hurts us both! I'm not arguing with you. Good bye, Tom._ And with a final snip of his mental sheers, he severed the cancerous mass of magic. Then he passed out.

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Harry woke slowly, still groggy and with a massive headache. He remembered what he had done, though, and he focused his magic inward to examine the place where the link had been in his scar. He was quite pleased to see that it was gone completely.

"He's awake!" came Ron's voice, loud to his sensitive head. "Harry, what the bloody hell happened? You woke me up screaming, and your scar had split wide open, bleeding and oozing this black pus. Honestly, it looked almost like ink!"

"Ron, back off," came the voice of his mother. "He just woke up. "Harry, how are you feeling, dear?"

"Headache," he said, but his own voice was very rough and hoarse from screaming. "Got it all out, though."

"Got what out?" asked Dumbledore. When had he gotten here?

"The part of him he left behind, the link that was in my scar. I cut it away, inside, where it mattered. I just checked, and I got every bit of it." Harry smiled despite the pain.

Ron handed Harry his glasses, and he put them on just in time to see Dumbledore's shocked expression. "That is extraordinary! This changes everything!"

"What was that thing, sir? What was it that linked us? It was like a tumor on my magic!"

Dumbledore nodded. He looked at the others in the room. "I'll need everyone else to leave, please. What I say next is for Harry's ears alone." Everyone understood, and soon they were alone in the bedroom. "What I'm about to tell you is the product of a great deal of guesswork, though it is an educated guess. When Voldemort went after your parents on that Halloween night, he came prepared to perform a ritual so dark that almost all knowledge of it has been destroyed. The ritual is a way to become effectively immortal."

Harry started talking, thinking out loud, "We already knew he was after me for some reason. His name means 'flight from death', so we know that is what he fears, his followers called Death Eaters, because that is what he fights. He dreams of immortality, not through an heir or notoriety, but actual physical deathlessness. Has he magic that would prevent it? Of course, or he'd have been killed when he tried to kill me. What else do we know?" He looked up at the Headmaster. "What else do you know, or think you know?"

"Very good, Mr. Potter. I know from records in the Restricted Section that he was researching soul magic. I believe you have read J. R. R. Tolkien's work?"

Harry blanched. "The One Ring, or something like it?"

"Or several somethings. They are called Horcruxes, or soul jars, and it is my belief that he made more than one. They are the most vile kind of magic, requiring the person using them to split off portions of their own soul and place them in the jars. Doing this requires that the person commits murder, which injures their soul, and then use magic to finish the cut, as it were."

Harry shuddered. "No truer words were said than this, that fear leads to the dark side."

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Very true. I believe that he was attempting to create another Horcrux the night he tried to kill you as a baby."

"And the piece of himself that he sliced off attached itself to me instead of the thing it was meant to because of Mum's sacrifice." He looked into the old man's eyes. "If I had not just cut that thing out of my head—"

The Headmaster nodded. "You'd have had to die to kill it." Then he grinned. "But you, my dear boy, have never been one for following the rules! You beat it, and by a method no one would ever have guessed!" Harry smiled at him, though there were yet a few things about that which were upsetting. They could wait. Dumbledore sobered. "What we still don't know is how many he made, and what he made them of. I'm fairly certain that the diary which you fought in your second year was one of them, probably the earliest, and made while he was still at school."

"Well, that makes three pieces, if you include the one that's still a part of him, and three is a magically stable number. Could that be what he was after?"

Dumbledore's eyebrows flew into his hairline, then he frowned. "No, I don't think that would have been enough for him, but there is another magically significant number, and I think it would have made sense to him; seven."

Harry nodded. "So there are four more of them out there that we'll have to destroy before he can be defeated." He sighed.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "You're right, of course. But as he does not know that we know about them, we have time to find and destroy them."

Harry smiled at the old man. "That said, it's time we got to the school, isn't it?"

"So it is."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Harry had already packed his trunk, and shrunk his sword and broom, but he took the time to help Ron pack his trunk and shrink his own new broom. He promised that he'd tell him and the others once they were on the train what Dumbledore and he had worked out, but he didn't want Mrs. Weasley to hear any of it. Much as he knew she needed to face her fears, he wasn't going to force her to. Besides, on the train, he'd be able to put up a good silencing ward. "There's a lot I need to tell you, but I'm not doing it here. Just have patience, Ron."

Fred and George were floating their trunks down the stairs, and knocked Ginny off of them. She might have snapped her neck at the bottom, if Harry hadn't caught her in the grip of the force. He would have told the twins off, but their mother took care of that for him. Unfortunately, her screaming set off Mrs. Black's portrait. It took a full ten minutes to get her shut again. "Sirius," Harry started, "Would you like to get rid of this picture?"

"Love to, but nothing we've tried works. We think she used a Permanent Sticking Charm on the canvas."

"Have you tried cutting out the wall behind her?"

Remus and Sirius looked at each other, their eyes going wide. Obviously, they hadn't. They grinned at one another, and in a fit of childish joy, Remus bowed to his best friend. "Mr. Mooney defers to Mr. Padfoot in this endeavor, as it is most personal to him."

Sirius bowed in return. "Mr. Padfoot thanks Mr. Moony most graciously, but requests he help with the heavy lifting."

"Mr. Moony gladly agrees to acquiesce to Mr. Padfoot's request."

Then Sirius drew his wand from inside his robes and aimed it at the wall just an inch to the left of the portrait and shouted, " _Diffendo!_ " Then he did the same to the top, bottom and right sides, cutting out a rectangle of wall that framed the portrait and her curtains. Then Remus levitated her out of the space, screaming all the while.

In the wall behind the portrait was a safe. It was as tall as the floor to the ceiling, and was made of solid black steel, with golden pin striping along the edges and gold lettering pronouncing it to be a product of Liberty Safes, Payson, Utah, Est. 1988. Sirius's eyes bugged out. "Mother never did trust the goblins. I'm shocked. That thing was made by Muggles, and Americans to boot!"

Harry looked at it. "It might have been Muggle originally, but it's certainly not without its Charms." Dark magic permeated the knobs and buttons. "I'd be careful with that thing if I were you."

Sirius nodded. "I'll have Bill look at it for me." He then looked at his mother's shrieking portrait. "Until then, I've got a barbecue to plan."

* * *

 _Note: Thank you to TicklishHoneyBee and Guest for pointing out what should have been obvious to me. This fixes the inconsistency._


	4. Return to Hogwarts

**Chapter Four: Return to Hogwarts**

Thanks to Harry turning Sirius's hair a different color, he was able to join them on their journey to King's Cross Station without risking himself. Just being a dog wasn't enough, not when everyone who knew about his Animagus form knew it was a Grim. Harry had added little wheels to one end of his trunk so he could just pick up one edge and roll it rather than trying to lift the whole thing. Sure, he'd put a wandless Featherlight Charm on it, but it was still awkward to move. Sirius was acting like a giant puppy, chasing squirrels and birds and generally bouncing around, his rear and tail moving at full wag the whole time. It made the kids all grin and laugh, despite Mrs. Weasley's disapproval of him being out at all.

Tonks joined them on their way, appearing to be an old woman. She had tightly curled gray hair and wore a purple hat shaped like a porkpie.

It took them twenty minutes to reach King's Cross by foot and nothing more eventful happened during that time than Sirius scaring a couple of cats for Harry's entertainment. Once inside the station they lingered casually beside the barrier between platforms nine and ten until the coast was clear, then each of them leaned against it in turn and fell easily through onto platform nine and three quarters, where the Hogwarts Express stood belching sooty steam over a platform packed with departing students and their families. Harry smiled a little, as he was nearly home.

"Nice dog, Harry!" called a tall boy with dreadlocks.

"Thanks, Lee," said Harry, grinning, as Sirius wagged his tail frantically.

A porter's cap pulled low over his mismatched eyes, Moody soon came limping through the archway pushing a cart full of their trunks.

"All okay," he muttered to Mrs. Weasley and Tonks. "Don't think we were followed…"

Seconds later, Mr. Weasley emerged onto the platform with Ron and Hermione. They had almost unloaded Moody's luggage cart when Fred, George, and Ginny turned up with Lupin.

"No trouble?" growled Moody.

"Nothing," said Lupin.

"I'll still be reporting Sturgis to Dumbledore," said Moody. "That's the second time he's not turned up in a week. Getting as unreliable as Mundungus."

"Well, look after yourselves," said Lupin, shaking hands all round. He reached Harry last and gave him a clap on the shoulder. "You too, Harry. Be careful."

"Yeah, keep your head down and your eyes peeled," said Moody, shaking Harry's hand too. "And don't forget, all of you—careful what you put in writing. If in doubt, don't put it in a letter at all."

"It's been great meeting all of you," said Tonks, hugging Hermione and Ginny. "We'll see you soon, I expect."

A warning whistle sounded; the students still on the platform started hurrying onto the train.

"Quick, quick," said Mrs. Weasley distractedly, hugging them at random and catching Harry twice. "Write…Be good…If you've forgotten anything we'll send it on…Onto the train, now, hurry…"

For one brief moment, the great black dog reared onto its hind legs and placed its front paws on Harry's shoulders, but Mrs. Weasley shoved Harry away toward the train door hissing, "For heaven's sake act more like a dog, Sirius!"

The train began to move, while Ron, Hermione, and Ginny waved to the people on the figures of Tonks, Lupin, Moody, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as they shrank rapidly, the penny-colored dog bounding alongside the window, wagging its tail; blurred people on the platform were laughing to see it chasing the train, and then they turned the corner, and Sirius was gone.

Fred and George went to find Lee and get some "business" done, Ron and Hermione had to go to the prefect carriage to get their initial instructions, and Harry and Ginny went to find a cabin for them all. Harry immediately noticed the atmosphere of mistrust on the train as they poked their heads into different cabins looking for seats, but he didn't take it to heart. He knew it was because of the _Daily Prophet._ He did wonder, however, what it would take for him to buy the paper and force them to start writing sense, if the public trusted them so much.

In the very last carriage they met Neville Longbottom, Harry's fellow fifth-year Gryffindor, his round face shining with the effort of pulling his trunk along and maintaining a one-handed grip on his struggling toad, Trevor.

"Hi, Harry," he panted. "Hi, Ginny…Everywhere's full…I can't find a seat…"

"What are you talking about?" said Ginny, who had squeezed past Neville to peer into the compartment behind him. "There's room in this one, there's only Loony Lovegood in here—"

Neville mumbled something about not wanting to disturb anyone.

"Don't be silly," said Ginny, laughing, "she's all right."

She slid the door open and pulled her trunk inside it. Harry and Neville followed.

"Hi, Luna," said Ginny. "Is it okay if we take these seats?"

The girl beside the window looked up. She had loosely curled, waist-length blond hair, very pale eyebrows, and protuberant eyes that gave her a permanently surprised look. Outwardly she appeared rather dotty with her wand stuck behind her left ear for safekeeping and her necklace of butterbeer caps, reading a magazine upside down. But her presence in the force was not only distinctive, but shining and bright. She was powerful, and he wondered if she was hiding on purpose or if she just didn't care what others thought. Her eyes ranged over Neville and came to rest on Harry. She nodded.

"Thanks," said Ginny, smiling at her.

Harry and Neville stowed the three trunks and Hedwig's cage in the luggage rack and sat down. The girl called Luna watched them over her upside-down magazine, which was called _The Quibbler_. She stared and stared at Harry with an unblinking gaze, as he sat in the seat opposite her. He could feel her nervousness.

"Had a good summer, Luna?" Ginny asked.

"Yes," said Luna dreamily, without taking her eyes off Harry. "Yes, it was quite enjoyable, you know. You're Harry Potter," she added.

"Yes," said Harry. "Pleased to meet you, Luna."

Luna turned to Neville. "And I don't know who you are."

"I'm nobody," said Neville hurriedly.

"No you're not," said Ginny sharply. "Neville Longbottom—Luna Lovegood. Luna's in my year, but in Ravenclaw."

" _Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure_ ," said Luna in a singsong voice.

Harry answered her, " _Great wit is fine. Understanding is better_."

She smiled brightly at him, her nerves calmer, and nodded, then raised her upside-down magazine high enough to hide her face and fell silent. Ginny and Neville looked at each other with their eyebrows raised. Ginny suppressed a giggle.

The train rattled onward, speeding them out into open country. It was an odd, unsettled sort of day; one moment the carriage was full of sunlight and the next they were passing beneath ominously gray clouds. Harry folded his legs up under him on the seat and went to work on his new Occulmensy shields. He had a feeling he would be able to make them much stronger now that he didn't have a piece of Voldemort's soul stuck to his mind.

Once he had the shields in place, he sunk into the force, prodding them and looking for weaknesses. It was not something he could do from the inside, as it were, because the view would be too subjective. But the force could tell him what he needed to work on. Right away, he found a couple of cracks in his shields, and started bolstering them. Once they sealed, he felt the shield become stronger, more fluid. He'd have to keep doing that until he could instinctively raise a rock-solid shield.

Neville had gotten a cactus for his birthday, and went to show them it's very cool defense mechanism, but Harry stopped him when he went to poke it with a quill. "Isn't that the plant that produces stinksap?" The cactus was quivering in the force, full of nervous energy, and if it were threatened, it would not react well. Neville nodded, and Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't fancy wearing it, do you?"

"Oh." Neville said sheepishly.

"Oh, indeed. It's still very interesting, though." Harry didn't want his friend to feel bad about it, and he perked up.

Harry noticed the article in Luna's magazine on Sirius, and asked her if he could read it. It was strange, expressing the opinion that Sirius was actually the lead singer for the Hobgoblins, Stubby Boardman, and was therefore nowhere near the scene of the crime he was accused of. Because of this they were calling for him to be pardoned. He appreciated the sentiment, of course, but it would do no good, being based on falsehood. He returned the magazine to Luna, thanking her.

"You seem disappointed."

"I don't mean to."

She smiled gently at him. "You'll have the proof you need eventually." He smiled back at her gratefully.

Ron and Hermione came in about an hour after the train left the station, and they told the others who all the new prefects were. Malfoy had, of course, gotten the male slot in Slytherin, joined by Pansy Parkinson. Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott were the prefects in Hufflepuff, and Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil were the ones for Ravenclaw.

"We're supposed to patrol the corridors every so often," he told Harry and Neville, "and we can give out punishments if people are misbehaving. I can't wait to get Crabbe and Goyle for something. . . ."

"You're not supposed to abuse your position, Ron!" said Hermione sharply.

"Yeah, right, because Malfoy won't abuse it at all," said Ron sarcastically.

Harry said, "Ron, do you really want to be lumped in with him?" Ron scowled at him. "Don't look at me that way. I know you're better than him, Ron, so you should act like it!"

As if their thinking about him had summoned him, the compartment door slid open to reveal Draco Malfoy's smirking face.

Harry said in a cold voice, "May we help you?"

"Just offering my congratulations to the two new prefects, Potter. Noticed you got passed over."

He shrugged. "There can't be more than two. And I hear congratulations are in order for you as well. Consider them offered."

"Thank you. You might just have to watch your step this year, though."

Harry let the corner of his mouth turn up just a bit. "We'll see. Have a nice day."

Irritated that he hadn't got a rise out of Harry, Malfoy turned back into the corridor, his nose in the air. Ron said, "How do you do that?"

"Meditation has given me the tools to stay calm. It also has study benefits, like retaining information with less study time and it's required for several magical disciplines, such as Occulmensy." He didn't state out loud that it was required for touching one's magical core and accessing the force. "I could teach you, if you want. It takes patience, though, and discipline."

Ron frowned. "Sounds like a lot of work."

Harry smiled. "It was at first. But a lot can be accomplished by a calm mind." He looked at Hermione, and she grinned, knowing exactly what he meant by that.

By the time they reached the castle, the clouds and darkness had made everything gloomy and spooky-looking. Hagrid was missing, with Professor Grubbly-Plank replacing him, at least temporarily, in leading the first year students to the boats.

"Where's Hagrid?" he said out loud.

"I don't know," said Ginny, "but we'd better get out of the way, we're blocking the door."

He nodded, and walked on. Harry and Ginny became separated as they moved off along the platform and out through the station. Jostled by the crowd, Harry squinted through the darkness for a glimpse of Hagrid; he had to be here, Harry had been relying on it—seeing Hagrid again had been one of the things to which he had been looking forward most. But there was no sign of him at all.

 _He can't have left_ , Harry told himself as he shuffled slowly through a narrow doorway onto the road outside with the rest of the crowd. _He's just got a cold or something…_

He looked around for Ron or Hermione, wanting to know what they thought about the reappearance of Professor Grubbly-Plank, but neither of them was anywhere near him, so he allowed himself to be shunted forward onto the dark rain-washed road outside Hogsmeade station.

Here stood the hundred or so horseless stagecoaches that always took the students above first year up to the castle. Harry glanced quickly at them, turned away to keep a lookout for Ron and Hermione, then did a double take.

The coaches were no longer horseless. There were creatures standing between the carriage shafts; if he had had to give them a name, he supposed he would have called them horses, though there was something reptilian about them, too. They were completely fleshless, their black coats clinging to their skeletons, of which every bone was visible. Their heads were dragonish, and their pupil-less eyes white and staring. Wings sprouted from each wither—vast, black leathery wings that looked as though they ought to belong to giant bats. Standing still and quiet in the gloom, the creatures looked eerie and sinister. But to the force, they simply felt like a leashed predator, quite tame, in fact.

With caution, not wanting to spook or irritate it, Harry approached one of the creatures, allowing it first to scent his hand, and then when he got a favorable reaction, he ran his hand down the creature's bony neck and across the shoulder. The coat was just like horse hair, but there were scales beneath it.

Ron said, "What are you doing?" He was looking at Harry like he had three heads.

"What? Sure they look fierce, but they're quite obviously tamed."

Hermione, who was just getting into the coach said, " _What_ are?"

He realized suddenly that they couldn't see them for some reason. "Come here." They looked at each other and shrugged, then came over to join him. He had each of them petting the horse-like animals, not wanting either of them to think he'd gone 'round the bend or something.

"Why can't we see them?" wondered Hermione.

Luna said, "Because you have never seen death. They're called thestrals. Most people are glad not to be able to see them, I'm sure. We should go."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

During the trip to the castle they talked about Hagrid's absence. Not knowing him as they did, Luna expressed a rather negative opinion of his teaching that set Ron and Ginny off. Harry said, "While he may not be the best teacher, Luna, he has a real love of the subject, and more importantly to all of us, he is a great friend."

She looked at him closely, trying to figure him out. Harry just looked back, and she nodded slowly. "I understand."

Once they reached the castle, they all disembarked, and Harry threw the thestrals a long look. Then he turned to go inside with everyone else. They went up the stone stairs, through the torch-festooned entrance hall, and into the brilliantly-lit Great Hall. Luna went her own way toward the Ravenclaw table, while the five Gryffindors quickly found seats together at their own house table.

A quick scan of the staff table revealed Master Kang and another new face. She looked, Harry thought, like somebody's maiden aunt: squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes. Then she turned her face slightly to take a sip from her goblet and he saw a pallid, toadlike face and a pair of prominent, pouchy eyes. He wondered what her position on the staff was to be.

Then Professor Grubbly-Plank appeared and sat in the seat that would normally be taken by Hagrid. That meant the Sorting was about to start, and he sat a little straighter in his seat. Not long after that the doors from the entrance hall opened. A long line of scared-looking first years were then led down to the front of the hall by Professor McGonagall, where the Sorting Hat waited on a stool.

The Hat sang a rather long song this year, declaring the need for unity among the houses, warning them that they would need each other. Then it Sorted the first years, from Abercrombie, Euan to Zeller, Rose. Finally, Dumbledore released the students to eat, leaving everyone to enjoy the welcoming feast and to discuss their summer vacations.

When all the students had finished eating and the noise level in the hall was starting to creep upward again, Dumbledore got to his feet once more. Talking ceased immediately as all turned to face the headmaster. "Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," said Dumbledore. "First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students—and a few of our older students ought to know by now too." (Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged smirks.)

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door.

"We have had three changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons while Professor Hagrid visits with family; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Kang Pitei-Kusan, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Professor Kang comes to us from the far east in South Korea and has agreed to give us a year of his time. Finally we welcome Professor Dolores Umbridge, who will be teaching a new and required course called Laws and Customs for British Magical Persons. You'll note that there was no text for her class on your school book lists, but they will be provided for you on your first day in the class."

Dumbledore continued, "Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on—"

He broke off, looking inquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Professor Umbridge said, "Hem, hem," and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech.

Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, then he sat back down smartly and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. Other members of staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair, and Professor McGonagall's mouth was as thin as Harry had ever seen it. No new teacher had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. Many of the students were smirking; this woman obviously did not know how things were done at Hogwarts. He didn't think they should be underestimating the seriousness of the situation.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Professor Umbridge simpered, "for those kind words of welcome." She then launched into the most boring speech Harry'd ever had to endure, including Professor Binns's class, but he forced himself to listen closely, and it wasn't good. He had a feeling that this would have been the person teaching them Defense if Professor Dumbledore hadn't thought to ask Master Kang to teach it, and he was quite grateful that she wouldn't be. This new class would be difficult, though.

Her speech finished, she sat down. Dumbledore clapped. The staff followed his lead, though Harry noticed that several of them brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping. A few students joined in, but most had been taken unawares by the end of the speech, not having listened to more than a few words of it, and before they could start applauding properly, Dumbledore had stood up again. "Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating," he said, bowing to her. "Now—as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held . . ."

"Yes, it certainly was illuminating," said Hermione in a low voice.

"You're not telling me you enjoyed it?" Ron said quietly, turning a glazed face upon Hermione. "That was about the dullest speech I've ever heard, and I grew up with Percy."

"I said illuminating, not enjoyable," said Hermione. "It explained a lot."

"Yes," said Harry. "The Ministry is trying to interfere in how Hogwarts is run. This is a private school, so they should have no say, legally. I wonder what changed?"

"There would have had to be a new law written, requiring this Law and Custom class. Mind I think something along those lines should have been part of the curriculum in first year to help the Muggleborn students, but I doubt that's what's going to be going on in that class."

Harry nodded. There was a great clattering and banging all around them; Dumbledore had obviously just dismissed the school, because everyone was standing up ready to leave the Hall. Hermione jumped up, looking flustered.

"Ron, we're supposed to show the first years where to go!"

Harry said, "I'll catch up to all of you later. I'm going to the library to find anything I can on magical mental disciplines. I want to know if there's anything other than Legilimensy and Occulmensy."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

If there was one thing Harry hated, it was being stared at with fear. He'd grown to hate that feeling in second year, when everyone had thought he was the Heir of Slytherin, and he hated it now, feeling it coming from various minds around him in the Hall. He should have expected it, he supposed. They'd seen him come back with Cedric's body, shouting that Voldemort was back, and they'd all read the paper over the summer. Many believed the smear that the Minister and the _Prophet_ were running. But he resolved to ignore it, to not let it get to him. It was enough that he and his friends knew he was not mad, that his friends trusted him.

He only found one book in the library on mental arts, and it proved to be a copy of the same one Sirius had given him, so he left it there and headed back to Gryffindor Tower. When he reached the portrait door, he realized he didn't know the password. But Neville ran up behind him and told the Fat Lady, "Mimbulus mimbletonia."

She said, "Correct," and opened up to let them into the tower.

"Thanks, Neville."

When he went into the dorm, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan were talking, but they stopped when he walked through the door. Dean tried to smooth the space over by asking, "Hey, Harry. Good summer?"

"It didn't start off that way, but I think it ended well. You?"

"Better than Seamus's."

Neville asked, "What happened?" as he placed his cactus on the table next to his bed.

Harry wasn't sure Seamus was going to answer for a moment, he put so much effort into ensuring that his Kenmare Kestrels Quidditch poster was hung just as he wanted it, but finally he said, "Me mam didn't want me to come back."

"Why?" Harry asked, hedging around the reason he suspected. "Was she afraid Voldemort would attack the school?"

Seamus flushed. "No. Because she doesn't believe you and Dumbledore."

Sadly Harry nodded. Quietly, he said, "And what do you believe? Am I a liar, and Dumbledore a fool for believing me? Or is Voldemort quietly gathering strength while the Minister does his job for him?"

"Merlin, Harry, do you know how that _sounds_?"

"No, and I'm afraid I don't have the luxury of time to worry about it. I'm sorry if that's caused you problems at home, though."

Seamus stared at him for a moment, looking him right in the eye. Slowly he nodded. "They've got you all wrong, haven't they. And that means he really is back. All right. Since we aren't going to hear it from them, let's hear it from you. What happened at the end of last year?"

So, for the next hour, Harry told Dean, Seamus and Neville what happened in the final task and in the graveyard, and immediately after. He told them of Sirius Black's innocence, and he told them of Peter Pettigrew's betrayal of his parents. He didn't tell them about the Order of the Phoenix, but he did tell them that Dumbledore was planning his fight against Voldemort since the Minister refused to see reason. Finally, he said, "Now please don't misunderstand me. I'm not looking for vindication against everyone who's speaking against me. I've only told you lot because we're mates and you deserve to know what's going on. But I just can't go through it with everyone in the school, you know?"

The boys all looked at one another and nodded. Seamus said, "Don't worry, Harry. We've got your back."

Dean nodded, too. "Yeah. We'll get the others to back off about you. It's none of their business, anyway."

Ron had come in during this, and grinned at Harry. He just smiled back at his friend and they all went to their beds.

Before sleeping, Harry meditated and practiced his Occulmensy, once again looking at his shields from the outside to see how they were holding up. They were certainly getting better, especially since he didn't have that Horcrux making them worse, but he still spotted a few cracks here and there and worked on sealing them. Deep in the grip of the force, a vision came to him. He knew that it was of the future, but how far forward he couldn't say. It was of Voldemort, standing over a broken white tomb, holding a wand over his head in triumph. Coming out of it, Harry took out his dream journal for Divination and wrote it down. He might think Professor Trelawney was nutters, but that didn't mean she wasn't correct about some things, and writing down a dream which may prove prophetic was a good idea.

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

 _Notes: To the reviewer Smutley DW; One, Harry is still a Gryffindor, and Gryffindors rush forward where angels and more sensible people fear to tread; Two, Harry is trying to become a Jedi, and therefore trying to put away such things as petty vengeance. I'm not saying you're wrong about how this would play out for other versions of Harry, but not this particular one._

 _To the reviewer Huh; I found more than one word. Both made sense to me, not being a student of Latin._

 _To the reviewer Darksnider; The OotP is kind of a neighborhood watch kind of group dealing with an actual threat. They're not dealing with bicycle thieves, to be sure, but they're not an army, either. And Merlin help us if the Minister ever actually gets off his duff about it! No, this is still a very individually oriented fight. As for Arthur, well I wouldn't want to give anything away._

 _To the reviewer Vukk; Snape made an Unbreakable Oath to Narcissa at the beginning of DH. And Remus is proud of Harry for taking the moral high ground, even if the wolf in him would like to use them for chew toys. The Patronus is burnt onto the blade of anyone using this new variant of the spell by virtue of the spell still having that form. You'll note that Master Kang's is a crane._

 _To all reviewers; Thank you for your comments. They make me think, make me watch what I'm doing so that I don't contradict myself or something, and give me a reason to keep writing other than the plotbunnies trying to eat my ankles._


	5. Classes

**Chapter Five: Classes**

Harry and his friends followed the Ravenclaws into the Great Hall for breakfast, looking instinctively at the staff table as they entered. Professor Grubbly-Plank was chatting to Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher, and Hagrid was once again conspicuous only by his absence. The enchanted ceiling above them echoed Harry's mood; it was a miserable rain-cloud gray.

"Dumbledore didn't even mention how long Professor Grubbly-Plank's staying," he said, as they made their way across to the Gryffindor table.

"Maybe . . ." said Hermione thoughtfully.

"What?" said both Harry and Ron together.

"Well . . . maybe he didn't want to draw attention to Hagrid not being here."

"What d'you mean, draw attention to it?" said Ron, half laughing. "How could we not notice?"

Before Hermione could answer, a tall black girl with long, braided hair had marched up to Harry.

"Hi, Angelina."

"Hi," she said briskly, "good summer?" And without waiting for an answer, "Listen, I've been made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain."

"Nice one," said Harry, grinning at her; he suspected Angelina's pep talks might not be as long-winded as Oliver Wood's had been, which could only be an improvement.

"Yeah, well, we need a new Keeper now Oliver's left. Tryouts are on Friday at five o'clock and I want the whole team there, all right? Then we can see how the new person'll fit in."

"Okay," said Harry, and she smiled at him and departed.

"I'd forgotten Wood had left," said Hermione vaguely, sitting down beside Ron and pulling a plate of toast toward her. "I suppose that will make quite a difference to the team?"

"I s'pose," said Harry, taking the bench opposite. "He was a good Keeper. . . ."

"Still, it won't hurt to have some new blood, will it?" said Ron.

They ate their breakfast quickly, Hermione snatching bites of eggs and scones in between reading the _Daily Prophet_. Ron asked her why she was still reading it when it was a load of rubbish. "It's best to know what the enemy are saying," said Hermione darkly, and she unfurled the newspaper and disappeared behind it, not emerging until Harry and Ron had finished eating.

"Nothing," she said simply, rolling up the newspaper and laying it down by her plate. "Nothing about you or Dumbledore or anything."

Ron said, "Maybe no news is good news?"

But she shook her head. Harry said, "If they're not saying anything, they're waiting on something, and I'll bet it's Professor Umbridge."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Gryffindor's first class of the day was Potions, and their first assignment the Draught of Peace. Thanks to Harry's new retention ability, he brewed the potion perfectly, much to the irritation of Professor Snape. In front of the entire class, Professor Snape said, "Potter seems to have perfected his potion-making skills over the summer. Tell us, what is your secret?"

"I have learned a new skill set which has helped me with all of my studies," Harry respectfully answered him.

"And what skills, pray tell is in this set?"

"The skills are three; calm, attention, and patience."

The Professor glared at him, seeking whereby he could find fault in Harry's answer, but failing. Then he sneered. "Let's see if the rest of these dunderheads can learn them."

At this, Harry shrugged. "It's possible, however unlikely."

That actually caused the corner of Snape's mouth to curl up in humor. "Class dismissed."

Ron boggled at Harry until they were back out in the corridor, and once there said, "Snape didn't take any points!"

"He thought it was funny."

"Snape doesn't think things are funny, except taking points!"

Hermione said, "Ron, that joke was perfect for Professor Snape."

Their next class was with Defense Against the Dark Arts with Master Kang. Professor, Harry reminded himself. He could not address his master as such while they were in public. They were in a new classroom this year, the same one where they'd held the dueling club in second year. There were desks for everyone, but they were arranged in concentric semicircles, leaving a big clear area in the front of the class. At the front of the class were a small desk and a large bookshelf. Lining the back wall were several target dummies.

"Welcome to fifth year Defense, Gryffindor House. I am Professor Kang. I am a master of Aikido and of magical dueling. What you will learn from me in this class will be sufficient to allow you to protect yourself from any wizard who might try to harm you, including putting that wizard down so that he is no longer a threat. I will not teach you to kill, but neither will I warn you to refrain from it should you be attacked by someone who wants you dead. I will be teaching you the basic principles of defense, as well as specific spells and techniques to use in that defense.

"This is also the year of your OWL examination. All of the written work I assign you will be revisionary in nature, preparing you for the written exams, but what you learn in the practical lessons will be sufficient to prepare you for the practical exams, and so there will not be any written assignments on new material. Your other teachers will likely be inundating you with homework, so while I do not want to underprepare you, neither do I want to overwhelm you.

"The basic principles of defense are universal. Even those with no magical power can use these principles with their own techniques and weapons." He pointed his wand at the chalk and it began writing on the board. Students quickly moved to copy down what was written. "First is body language. Do not appear to the observer to be an easy victim, nor overconfident. Be neither the peacock nor the mouse, but the wolf. Someone looking for a victim will look for a mouse, someone who is weak and easily taken, or for someone who is the peacock, someone who moves with a swagger, but without skill. They will be less likely to attack the wolf, the one who is quietly confident; who knows their own limits, but is able to move very well within them.

"Second, know your options. In any given situation, you need to be able to decide what your best option for defense is. If your opponent is overconfident, you may be able to take them down quickly and restrain them. If they are vastly more powerful than you, your best option may be to flee. Those are not the only options, of course, but examples.

"Third, you must be prepared. Study the tactics and techniques that you are most likely to need to defend against. If you worry about those who are of a certain culture, study that culture, and what it teaches about attack. If you worry about those of your own culture, then study it. Learn the hexes and jinxes that you are most likely to encounter, say, down Knockturn Alley, and learn the counters to those techniques. Physical fitness will allow you to respond more quickly to any given situation, as well. The best defense against any spell is to not be hit with it, so you will be learning how to duck and dodge, and how to train for such encounters.

"Fourth, you must learn to unify your body, mind and magic. This allows your entire being to be focused on a single goal. You cannot have your body trying to fight, your mind trying to flee and your magic trying to choose between them. There are several techniques we will cover on this subject, including the combination of physical training, magical training, and meditation. This is not a method you will likely have ever heard of, but then, neither will your assailant.

"Finally, you must constantly aware of all of the previous principles, make them habitual, and this takes practice. It is not enough to learn something once, as for an exam, and then forget it. You must make these principles a part of you. If you do, there will be very few who can truly defeat you." Professor Kang pointed his wand at the chalk again, and it set itself back in the chalk tray. "Any questions?"

When there were none, Professor Kang passed out a two-foot quiz. "This assignment is not for a grade, but is for me to determine precisely where your strengths and weaknesses lie in knowledge you should have gained over the last four years of your schooling. It will allow me to shore up any problem areas you might have with regard to the coming OWLs. I expect each of you to be able by the time of the exam to garner a passing grade, and to be able to defend yourself against being or beast if you should find yourself in a dangerous situation."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

After lunch, Hermione had Ancient Runes, while Ron and Harry had Divination. Divination was Harry's least favorite class after Potions, which was due mainly to Professor Trelawney's habit of predicting his premature death every few lessons. A thin woman, heavily draped in shawls and glittering with strings of beads, she always reminded Harry of some kind of insect, with her glasses hugely magnifying her eyes. She was busy putting copies of battered, leather-bound books on each of the spindly little tables with which her room was littered when Harry entered the room, but so dim was the light cast by the lamps covered by scarves and the low-burning, sickly-scented fire that she appeared not to notice him as he took a seat in the shadows.

That turned out not to be the case. "Good day," said Professor Trelawney in her usual misty, dreamy voice. "And welcome back to Divination. I have, of course, been following your fortunes most carefully over the holidays, and am delighted to see that you have all returned to Hogwarts safely—as, of course, I knew you would.

"You will find on the tables before you copies of _The Dream Oracle_ , by Inigo Imago. Dream interpretation is a most important means of divining the future and one that may very probably be tested in your O.W.L. Not, of course, that I believe examination passes or failures are of the remotest importance when it comes to the sacred art of divination. If you have the Seeing Eye, certificates and grades matter very little. However, the headmaster likes you to sit the examination, so . . ."

Her voice trailed away delicately, leaving them all in no doubt that Professor Trelawney considered her subject above such sordid matters as examinations.

"Turn, please, to the introduction and read what Imago has to say on the matter of dream interpretation. Then divide into pairs. Use The Dream Oracle to interpret each other's most recent dreams. Carry on."

The one good thing to be said for this lesson was that it was not a double period. By the time they had all finished reading the introduction of the book, they had barely ten minutes left for dream interpretation. At the table next to Harry and Ron, Dean had paired up with Neville, who immediately embarked on a long-winded explanation of a nightmare involving a pair of giant scissors wearing his grandmother's best hat.

"I never remember my dreams," said Ron. "You say one."

"Very well." And Harry began to recount in detail an actual dream he'd had the night before. "I was standing in the park in Surrey after my usual run. A small being with green skin and large, pointed ears was sitting at the top of the slide. He wore a buff tunic, belted around the middle, and a brown robe, and carried a twisted cane. He was very old, and what little hair he had left was silvery white. He spoke in a high-pitched gravelly voice, and he said, 'Making a good beginning, you are. But beware. Moving quickly are the forces of your world, and act soon the Dark One will. Learn all you can, you must, and quickly. Need this knowledge, you will, if to survive are you and yours.' Then he faded away into nothingness, and I was standing alone in the park."

The dream caught the attention of Professor Trelawney. "That's much more detailed than your usual dreams, Mr. Potter. Is this becoming more common?"

Surprised at the pointed question from a teacher who usually professed to know all ahead of time, he nodded. "Yes, ma'am, for the last three days."

"The spirit world may be trying to tell you something specific. Vivid dreaming can be a sign of a particularly intense need, or it can be a sign of a late-blooming of one's gift, especially around the age of puberty. My grandmother was a late bloomer, and she was a very powerful Seer, far more than I. I am well aware that you have fudged your assignments in the past, Mr. Potter, but while you continue to have such vivid visions, please record them accurately. You may even want to carry the journal with you, in case you receive a waking vision."

Nodding slowly, Harry said, "I will."

The bell rang, and Professor Trelawney quickly set them all the assignment of a month-long dream journal.

Ron said, "Wow, Harry! Is she right? Are you becoming a Seer?"

Waiting until they were out of the trap door, Harry pulled Ron quietly aside. "No. I went to sleep while I was meditating. I can sometimes catch glimpses of the future when I meditate because I'm in direct contact with the force, with magic itself. But she's not wrong about paying attention. The little being in the vision was Master Yoda, the Jedi Master who taught Luke Skywalker how to be a Jedi in the book I read. The force is using Master Yoda to warn me. You-Know-Who may be making a move, and soon."

"Why didn't you say anything," Ron asked.

"Because I wasn't sure that it was anything more than a dream. Professor Trelawney's reaction makes me think otherwise. She's virtually foaming at the mouth at the thought of having found a real Seer, of having the chance to train one, because that'd be a real feather in her professional cap. And I'm okay with that, because I think she may be able to help me with this one aspect of the force that Master Kang cannot."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Their last class of the day was the new Laws and Customs course. The front of the classroom contained a desk and a board. The room was frightfully dull, but the presence of the woman sitting behind the desk was not. Harry couldn't help but sense her, as she was fairly broadcasting her dislike of children in general and him in particular, as well as a darkly prejudiced mind.

"Well, good afternoon!" she said when finally the whole class had sat down.

A few people mumbled "Good afternoon," in reply.

"Tut, tut," said Professor Umbridge. "That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," they chanted back at her.

"There, now," said Professor Umbridge sweetly. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."

Many of the class exchanged gloomy looks; the order "wands away" had never yet been followed by a lesson they had found interesting. Harry shoved his wand back inside his bag and pulled out quill, ink, and parchment. Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once:

Laws and Customs for British Magical Persons:

Societal Expectations of Behavior from Young Wizards and Witches

"Everyone take a copy of _A Student Guide to Magical Britain_ , by Wilbert Slinkhard, please," Professor Umbridge said, and tapped two baskets with her short wand that were full of books. The baskets floated between the aisles of students, waiting as each took a book before moving on. Once the books reached the end of the class, she said, "Has everybody got a book?"

There was a dull murmur of assent throughout the class.

"I think we'll try that again," said Professor Umbridge. "When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply 'Yes, Professor Umbridge,' or 'No, Professor Umbridge.' So, has everyone got a copy of A Student Guide to Magical Britain?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge," rang through the room.

"Good," said Professor Umbridge. "I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, 'Basic Wizarding Etiquette.' There will be no need to talk."

Professor Umbridge left the blackboard and settled herself in the chair behind the teacher's desk, observing them all with those pouchy toad's eyes. Harry turned to page five of his copy of A Student Guide to Magical Britain and started to read.

By the end of it, no one could be under any impression other than that Professor Umbridge was running a propaganda campaign. The book was full of prejudice against Muggleborns, part-humans and non-humans, and distinctly stated that no school-age wizard or witch was expected to have any kind of opinion on such matters. Making matters worse, it was written in a horribly dull and condescending tone that was as sure as Professor Binns to put many of the students to sleep. They would never know what Umbridge was trying to do.

Harry looked around the room, and saw Hermione with her hand up and her face red and livid. Checking to make sure that Umbridge hadn't seen it yet, he nudged Hermione with the force. She looked around and saw him looking at her intently. He shook his head. She frowned, but nodded and took her hand down. She understood. The entire class was meant as a test of loyalty to the Ministry, nothing more and nothing less. They'd need to make sure that the students were ready for it. Harry was almost sure that something horrible would happen to anyone misfortunate enough to end up in detention with her.

Unfortunately, Umbridge caught the exchange. "Did you have a question, Miss—"

"Hermione Granger. I was actually curious as to the aims of this course, if it's not too much trouble?"

Harry took a deep breath and centered himself, then tried a new trick. He'd been hoping he could project emotions, but was not sure if it would work or not. He focused on his own deep calm, which was a product of his meditations, and tried to let Hermione feel it. He was rewarded by her face clearing and the redness beginning to go away.

Umbridge said, "Certainly." She tapped the board with her wand, and a list of the course aims appeared on it.

Course Aims:

To ensure all students have an understanding of the expectations the Ministry of Magic and society will have for them upon graduation.

To provide a clear basis for the legalities of magic use within the United Kingdom.

To provide a solid guide on the customs of modern magical Britain, and an understanding of the importance of those customs.

Hermione quickly scribbled these down in her notebook, followed by the rest of the class, and then said, "Thank you, Professor."

Obviously, Umbridge had been expecting some kind of fight, but not getting one, she just nodded and said, "You're welcome. Now please continue with your reading, dear."

At the end of class, Professor Umbridge stood again, and said, "For homework, please complete the first quiz on page sixteen."

The bell rang, and everyone gathered their things to leave. Professor Umbridge said, "Mr. Potter, please stay after class for just a moment."

He nodded to her, then turned to Hermione. "Wait for me outside?"

She gave him a quick nod and walked out. Harry went up to the desk. "How can I help you, Professor?"

"I want you to tell me what really happened at the end of last year, Mr. Potter."

He shook his head. "Respectfully, Professor Umbridge, I have said all I intend to on this subject. It was a horrible experience, and I have no wish to recount it constantly. I understand you are reporting directly to the Minister. If he wishes, I can provide him with a copy of my memory for that night. But anything else is just gossip, and frankly I've had enough of gossip during my school years."

"You are refusing?" she asked, leaning forward like a hound on a scent.

"I am, though with all respect to you. I do hope you will understand."

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter." Dark pleasure and anticipation oozed off of the woman, and Harry was hard put to tamp down his natural reaction to it, reaching again for the force to maintain calm.

He nodded, accepting the punishment. "I understand. Please have a good day, Professor, and convey my good wishes to the Minister." He turned to leave the classroom, and was very glad to have escaped when he got out before she could say anything else, mostly due to the shock she felt at his not arguing the point.

He grabbed Hermione's arm and Ron's as he exited the classroom, urging them to follow quickly. Once they had turned a corner and there was no chance of Umbridge spotting them if she poked her head out, he relaxed a fraction. Hermione said, "What was that, Harry? I know I wasn't really as calm as I felt in there! And what did she want you for after class?"

"Yes I helped you calm down. That book is vile propaganda against anyone who's different, and I could see you about to explode. She's looking for excuses to get people into detention for some reason, especially Gryffindors, and most especially me. She asked me what 'really' happened at the Third Task. I refused as politely as I could. I even told her to pass on an offer to the Minister to let him view my memory. She took ten points, but I got out of there before she could give me a detention."

Ron said, "What do you think she's trying to do?"

"I don't know. But she's going to give me a detention eventually. She'll find a way. I need a way of recording the events of that detention."

Hermione nodded. "Let's get Fred and George on it. Much as I wish they would stop recruiting the first years to be guinea pigs for their products, they're brilliant, and I'd bet on them being able to invent something like that for us."

Ron said, "Yeah! After all, the Extendable Ears could hear something. There should be some way of recording, shouldn't there be?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Let's go and find them."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Fred and George were in the Gryffindor common room, testing a product called Fainting Fancies. It was the last straw for Hermione, who went off on them in glorious fashion, threatened to write to their mother, and then huffed off.

Harry waited for them to calm down a bit, then approached them. "You going to write to Mum, too?" Fred groused.

"No. Not that I think you should be experimenting on the firsties, but I figure Hermione's made enough noise for the both of us on that matter. No, I've come to you with a business proposition, an item I'd like you to invent. You're welcome to sell it, of course, but I need one, and soon."

"What is it," asked George.

"A magical video camera. Wizarding photographs already move, but I need it to be able to record more than a single moment, and I need it to have very clear sound. I'd also really like it if it was disguised as something innocuous, something I can wear that won't be noticed by anyone. And please don't advertise it for sale until I've got the images I need."

The twins looked at each other in surprise. "That's a great idea, Harry," said George.

Fred continued, "Whatever do you need it for?"

"Have you had Umbridge's class yet?" At their negative, he said, "Watch out for her. She's itching for a fight, and she wants people in detention, especially anyone who supports me or Dumbledore. I avoided detention today by being exceedingly gracious. I'm not under any illusions that tactic will be successful forever, and I want what happens in there to be recorded." He looked them in the eyes, one after another. "I want proof."

Looking at one another again, they nodded, then to Harry they said, "We'll do it." Fred continued, "We'll need to buy a camera to work with, though."

"Would you be able to alter a Muggle camera? Make it work with magic and shrink it?"

George shook his head. "Not in the amount of time you're talking about. Actually, there's a kind of recorder that the Department of Mysteries uses that we might be able to use."

Fred said, "We'd have to find a way to shrink it, but they're able to record up to twenty-four hours."

Harry nodded. "What's it look like?"

"A glass ball."

A thought came to Harry. "Could you make it as small as a pearl?"

George said, "Why?"

For an answer, Harry took a Sickle out of his pocket and tapped it with his wand, saying, "Transverto." It melted into a jeweled setting, which he'd be able to attach to his tie as a tie pin. The center was empty, ready to receive a pearl, or a shrunken recording sphere. He held it up to his tie to show them what he meant.

Matching wicked grins met his idea. "Brilliant."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Harry also wanted to warn Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster, so he sent them both letters via Dobby the house elf, knowing he was trustworthy and that if he didn't want someone getting those letters, they wouldn't. He told them he suspected that Umbridge intended to abuse anyone she got in detention, especially him, and that he'd be wearing a recording device when it happened. He sent a note to Master Kang, as well, asking when and where to meet for training.

Dinner was a painful affair. Harry was the object of everyone's attention, whether they were actively staring at him or just talking about him amongst themselves, him and Dumbledore and how they believed he was lying. He did catch Dean and Seamus defending him, but they were small voices in the hurricane of controversy.

Dobby popped in with messages from the professors, and an owl came to his table with notice from Dolores Umbridge that if he did not tell her what she wanted to know by the next class she would give him detention for a week. He sighed, refusing to look up at the staff table. Instead, he sought out Fred and George's eyes, not surprised when he found them quickly. He nodded at them, and they nodded back.

Hermione looked at him, as well. "What's going on?"

"She said if I don't tell her, she'll give me a week's detention. The twins are helping me with an item for that occasion. I also got letters back from Professors McGonagall, Dumbledore and Kang." He opened the one from Master Kang first. "Master Kang is looking for a training space, and wants me to run 'round the lake in the meanwhile. No surprises there." Then he opened the one from Dumbledore. "Dumbledore promises to support me against her, but to make sure I get proof. Professor McGonagall says not to irritate her." He shrugged. "If only that were a choice."

Ron said, "What do you think she's going to do?"

"I don't know," Harry said. "But I doubt she wants me there for tea."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Of course, Harry did not tell her anything. He was still perfectly polite in her class, which he had again on Wednesday, but upon his equally polite refusal, she made good on her threat. "If you will not reveal the truth, you will face the consequences." She wrote out a note and handed it to him. "Take this to your head of house."

"As you wish," he said, and turned from her, getting his bag from his seat and leaving the classroom to do as he was bid. He went to the Transfiguration classroom, where Professor McGonagall was grading papers, from first years, he noticed.

"Mr. Potter, why aren't you in class?"

"Professor Umbridge sent me to you with a note."

"And why would she do that?" she asked, accepting the note from him.

"Probably because she's giving me a week's detention." He shook his head ruefully. "Angelina is not going to be happy with me."

Professor McGonagall read the note carefully. Then she sat back and sighed. "Have a biscuit, Mr. Potter." She waved her hand at the tartan patterned tin of biscuits, and he gladly took one, as well as sitting in the chair in front of her desk. "She states that while you were unfailingly polite, you still defied her order to tell her what happened at the end of the year."

"So I did. I will not give her the opportunity to call me a liar, and I suspect she is going to do something dangerous in the detentions she gives, so I am going into it with the hidden recording sphere I told you about in my letter."

She stared at him. "You expected this?"

He nodded slowly. "Did Professor Dumbledore tell you what I discovered over the summer?"

"Something about learning a new method of magic?"

Harry shook his head. "Not exactly. If anything, I think it is probably an older one." He dug in his book bag and pulled out his Star Wars book, handing it to her. "This story is fiction, but it reminded me strongly of magic, and between this book and a few others I've been able to teach myself a different way to access magic than by my wand. I learned how to meditate in such a way that I can touch it directly. With practice, I've been able to maintain that contact at all times, and one of the things that lets me see is what people are feeling, especially strong emotions, because they resonate in the energy of magic, which I've been calling the force because that's what the book calls it."

One of the many things Minerva McGonagall had in common with Hermione Granger was her ability to read very quickly. She skimmed through the book, though she didn't read it in detail. As she did so, Harry continued. "Madame Umbridge wants to give out detentions. Even the thought of it brings her pleasure, and it's a pleasure in the pain of others. Not even Professor Snape feels like that. He almost laughed at a joke I made yesterday."

"What do you think she'll do?"

He shook his head. "I don't know for sure. I can't read people's minds, just sense their emotions. But it isn't going to be good."

"Can I see a demonstration?"

He nodded, and, with his wand still in the holster on his wrist, Harry reached out with the force and levitated the tin of biscuits, and set it orbiting just above his head, where he could still see her. She could see the wand, and that it's tip didn't glow in the slightest. The magic wasn't going through the wand. He wasn't even gesturing toward the tin.

"Fascinating! All right, you can stop now." She sighed heavily. "Why does it always happen to you, Mr. Potter?"

He smiled a little at that. "I'm sure I don't know."

"All right. Come to my office directly after your detention tomorrow. I want to know immediately what is going on so I can warn the other Heads." She paused, looking over the note from Umbridge again. "I'm quite proud of you, Mr. Potter. Even she is lauding your politeness, and I dare say you would not have been so last year. You're growing into a fine young man, Harry."

He ducked his head, flushing a little in pleased embarrassment. "Thank you."

"All right, you go on to dinner. Make sure you get that recording sphere before going into that detention tomorrow. I must say, I dislike you putting yourself up as bait."

"Don't worry about me, Professor. I may be bait, but I still have a hook, and she'll regret it if she bites."

She grinned at him, and waved him on. He extended his hand and took the book he had shown her back. Thoughtfully, he said, "I wonder if I could find a few more copies of this book. I would love to pass the knowledge I'm gaining on."

"Ask Professor Flitwick about the Book Copier Charm. In fact, I'm sure your friend, Hermione, would love to know that one as well."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Harry got together with Fred and George again that evening. They had ordered a case of spheres, numbering twenty-four, and had already succeeded in shrinking the first one. It was the size of a pea. Harry took out the jeweled tie tack he had planned to use to hide it, and stuck it into place with a Permanent Sticking Charm. He read the instructions that came with the spheres, learning the spell to activate them and what their limitations were. They would only record for twenty-four hours. But that should be enough for this.

He finished his current homework, including the quiz for Umbridge, the essay on Moonstone for Snape, the one on the giant wars for Binns, and the one on bowtruckles for Professor Grubbly-Plank. He planned to do the one for McGonagall on Vanishing Spells, and for Professor Flitwick on Summoning Spells tomorrow evening.

The next day after Charms, Harry approached Professor Flitwick about the Book Copier Charm, and he gladly showed it to him. It wasn't too difficult, and Harry got it right in a couple of tries. The Professor said, "It does help if you've already read the book, because you'll be familiar with it."

Harry thanked him, then ran for the Great Hall, hoping to get a bit of dinner in before appearing for his sentence with Umbridge. Angelina stormed up to him, and he knew she was mad about the detention on Friday. He held a hand up before she could get a word out. "I know, I know, but I don't have a choice here." Very quietly, he said, "She's in the school specifically because the Minister is upset with me and Professor Dumbledore, and she's looking for the slightest of excuses. If I don't speak up in class or if I do, if I yell or if I'm silent, if I read or if I don't, none of it will matter, because she's not here for academics."

Angelina sighed. "All right. We'll narrow it down to three, and get everyone on the pitch Saturday to make the final decision. Can't you have a normal year, Potter?"

He grinned at her. "We're at a school to learn magic and we play a sport on brooms. I don't think I'd know what normal looked like."

Since Angelina was a Muggleborn, she understood only too well, and walked away laughing.

At five to five Harry bade the other two good-bye and set off for Umbridge's office on the third floor. At the door, he made sure his special tie tack was in place and not obstructed by his robes. When he knocked on the door she said, "Come in," in a sugary voice. He entered cautiously, looking around. The surfaces had all been draped in lacy covers and cloths. There were several vases full of dried flowers, each residing on its own doily, and on one of the walls was a collection of ornamental plates, each decorated with a large technicolor kitten wearing a different bow around its neck. These were so foul that Harry stared at them, transfixed, until Professor Umbridge spoke again. "Good evening, Mr. Potter."

Harry calmly turned around. He had not noticed her at first because she was wearing a luridly flowered set of robes that blended only too well with the tablecloth on the desk behind her. "Good evening," Harry said politely.

"Well, sit down," she said, pointing toward a small table draped in lace beside which she had drawn up a straight-backed chair. A piece of blank parchment lay on the table, apparently waiting for him. He sat down as instructed and waited. "Do you know why you are here, Mr. Potter?"

"Because you would like to know what happened on the twenty-fourth of June, and I truly wish I did not know, and will not, therefore, speak of it."

"True, on the surface, but it goes deeper than that, Mr. Potter. You do not respect authority. You do not respect the Ministry. And it is high time you started. Now, you are going to be doing some lines for me, Mr. Potter. No, not with your quill," she added, as Harry bent down to open his bag. "You're going to be using a rather special one of mine. Here you are."

She handed him a long, thin black quill with an unusually sharp point.

"I want you to write, ' _I must not disrespect authority,_ ' " she told him softly.

"How many times?" he asked.

"Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in," said Umbridge sweetly. "Off you go."

She moved over to her desk, sat down, and bent over a stack of parchment that looked like essays for marking. Harry raised the sharp black quill and then realized what was missing.

"You haven't given me any ink," he said.

"Oh, you won't need ink," said Professor Umbridge with the merest suggestion of a laugh in her voice.

Harry placed the point of the quill on the paper and wrote: _I must not disrespect authority._

He let out a gasp of pain. The words had appeared on the parchment in what appeared to be shining red ink. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of Harry's right hand, cut into his skin as though traced there by a scalpel — yet even as he stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth.

Harry looked around at Umbridge. She was watching him, her wide, toad-like mouth stretched in a smile.

"Yes?"

"Nothing," said Harry quietly. So this was it. She intended to torture him by his own hand until he bowed to the Ministry's party line. He wrote the line again: _I must not disrespect authority._ But this time he sunk into the force. He watched the magic of the quill slice open his hand and take blood from him for ink, then heal up behind. This time he didn't even gasp. He just watched, and studied how it worked. He thought it was some strange mix of a slicing hex and summoning, and he thought—no, he knew that he would be able to redirect the magic.

But not tonight. For tonight, he meditated through the pain. He wanted this recorded, and wanted her thereby to fall on her own sword. He did not hate her, but she was dangerous, and she certainly didn't need to be anywhere near children. She was sadistic, and power hungry, which was why the Minister had chosen her. That hunger would serve him well with the right promises.

Harry wrote the line long into the night, not checking his watch, not asking questions. He would not give her the satisfaction of knowing that he was bothered at all

Finally, she said, "Come here."

He stood up. His hand was stinging painfully. When he looked down at it he saw that the cut had healed, but that the skin there was red raw.

"Hand," she said. He extended it. She took it in her own. Harry repressed a shudder as she touched him with her thick, stubby fingers on which she wore a number of ugly old rings.

"Tut, tut, I don't seem to have made much of an impression yet," she said, smiling. "Well, we'll just have to try again tomorrow evening, won't we? You may go."

Harry nodded and left her office without a word. He was met there by Fred and George. Harry held a finger to his lips, warning them to be quiet until they were around a corner. "Hospital wing, now," he whispered urgently.

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

 _Note: So, I changed all the Guardius to Gladius. I only get my Latin from free online translators, so that's the deal with that._

 _To Tsukikageshi, no that doesn't surprise me in the slightest._

 _To Lexarius, Muggleborn, perhaps, but certainly not Harry. Someone may recognize something later, though, not sure._

 _To xavierp, yeah, not a fan of those either._

 _To capctr, I listen to a lot of radio talk shows and they like to use them as advertisers. I needed a safe, they're it._

 _To LoveSpock, you are correct, sir! And yes, I know, the Shaolin do Kung Fu, not Aikido, but in this case, it doesn't matter too much. "Those who have not swords can still die upon them." is from Eowyn of Rohan, Lord of the Rings, The Two Towers._

 _Thank you all, and please, review again!_


	6. Reaction

_Note: Well, Knight5946, I told you I was almost there. :D_

 _Everyone else, thank you all for reviewing. To those who have called for the torture/murder/tickling to death of Dolores Umbridge, we're trying to be Jedi here. Not Sith._

 _Nate: If you don't like it, then go elsewhere!_

 _Wandering Soul: Hopefully Harry answers your question here. But don't worry. There's still coming a tipping point for him. It's just going to be later in the story._

 _Onward!_

 **Chapter 6: Reaction**

Fred and George nodded, and Fred said, "We didn't realize it when we gave it to you, but these spheres broadcast as well as record, so we saw the whole thing on the control sphere."

George then said, "What is your plan, Harry?"

He shook his head. "Not until we're in the infirmary."

It only took them a couple of minutes to reach the hospital wing, and Madame Pomfrey, the school nurse, was not pleased to be wakened at that hour of the night. "Please, Madame Pomfrey. I know this is a horribly odd request, but I need you to examine my hand and draw your own conclusions before I tell you what has happened. If I'm right, you'll understand immediately."

"This had better not be a prank, Mr. Potter, or I'll have you and the two hoodlums behind you scrubbing toilets with your own toothbrushes!"

"It's not a prank, I promise."

Grumbling, the mediwitch waved her wand over his hand and muttered a diagnostic spell, which he quietly memorized for future reference. A ghost of the words, _I must not disrespect authority,_ floated above the spell, along with a few runes and the image of a quill. "A blood quill? Why in the world were you using a blood quill?"

"Detention with Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge. I also recorded the detention, but I have no idea how long it lasted."

Fred piped up. "Seven and a half hours. And he has four more detentions scheduled."

George finished. "We understand that will cause a permanent curse scar."

Now, Madame Pomfrey was virtually growling, but it was no longer aimed at the students in front of her. "You recorded this detention? How?"

Harry pointed to his tie tack. "Shrunken recording sphere in place of the pearl. I knew I didn't deserve the detention, so if something happened, I wanted a record of it. Fred and George decided to use their powers for good and ordered a case of them, as well as figuring out how best to shrink them without disrupting their recording ability."

Nodding to herself, the nurse quickly wrote a couple of notes on Harry's chart, which she had summoned the moment she saw him. "All right, you lads wait here. I'm going to get the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall in here. I assume they knew you had a detention tonight?"

"Professor McGonagall did. Umbridge actually sent me to her office with a note to inform her."

"Then she's a fool. All right, sit tight and I'll be right back."

While she was gone, Harry turned to the twins. "Can we make a copy of the recording? I'd like to have more than one, just in case someone gets handsy."

"Yeah," said George. "There were instructions in the box on how to do that."

Harry nodded, and at that moment, Madame Pomfrey came back in. "All right. We don't want anyone in the halls, so you two need to stay in here as well until there's someone to escort you back to the dorms."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Professor McGonagall was not any more pleased that Madame Pomfrey to be woken, but she became just as incensed as the mediwitch about one of her lions being tortured in detention. Professor Dumbledore was truly angry, but also thoughtful. "Harry, you could have stopped Madame Umbridge from harming you the moment you knew what she was doing."

The two women were shocked, but he answered. "Yes, I could, but that wouldn't have stopped her permanently. Better it happen to me once than over and over like she was planning, and better me, when I know I can handle it, than some poor firstie with more mouth than sense. Now, am I right that that thing she's using is illegal?"

Eyes twinkling at full power, Dumbledore said, "You are quite right about that. It does have some legal uses, mainly in the signing of certain kinds of contracts, but its use is strictly regulated because of the fact that it is technically a curse, and will result in a curse scar if overused. Also, I know of instances where it was used to steal a person's blood for potions uses, creating targeted love potions and things like that. Madame Pomfrey said you recorded this detention?"

Harry smiled slightly and pulled the tack off of his tie. Then he gently tapped it with his wand and said, "Reverto." The recording sphere grew back to its original size, though of course, the tack was still stuck to it. "This is to be one of the new products that Fred and George will be selling in their joke shop. They're just like the ones the Department of Mysteries uses, but shrunken."

"Excellent." Dumbledore touched the sphere with his wand and said, "Triplicare." Three new spheres split off from the one in Harry's hand. One went to Dumbledore, one to McGonagall, and the other to Madame Pomfrey. "Professors, if you will please put those somewhere innocuous where you can easily retrieve them if my copy is somehow lost. Harry, you put yours in your trunk. I will be taking this to the Minister personally, and if he refuses to see reason regarding Umbridge, we will have to resort to more drastic measures."

Harry said, "When you speak to him, please pass on my offer to let him view my memories of the night in the graveyard. Perhaps if he was given that kind of direct evidence, he would not be so quick to dismiss it. All he has right now is Rita Skeeter's foul reporting and his desire to not believe in the resurgence of Voldemort." He paused. "What would the penalty be for not taking the course?"

"Under the current law, she can prevent you from taking your OWL exams. I do not expect her to leave it at that. But neither will we. I will visit the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the morning. Madame Umbridge's class is canceled for the rest of the week regardless. When you go to your detention tomorrow, it will be interrupted by me, and perhaps an Auror or two."

With that, Professor Dumbledore left the infirmary. Professor McGonagall said, "Is Mr. Potter free to go, Madame Pomfrey?"

"Yes. For now the quill has done its work properly and healed the cuts."

"Then you three come with me, and I'll get you back to the tower."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Harry was met in the common room by Ron and Hermione, both of them having been very worried about him. "I'm okay. I've already been to Madame Pomfrey, and both Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore know what's going on."

Hermione said, "What did she do?"

Fred and George did not go to their dorm, but stayed in the common room with the three younger teens. Fred said, "She made him write lines for seven hours with a blood quill!"

They blew up, but Harry quickly hushed them. "Peace. It's being dealt with, and if things go well we should be able to get her thrown out of the school. I'm hoping that the Minister will accept my offer to let him view my memories, but we can't count on his support here."

Ron said, "What about this new way of using magic, Harry? Why don't we all learn that and help you?"

"I'd love for you to help me, Ron, but as far as becoming a Jedi, there are a few things standing in your way. For one, you don't know what a Jedi is, not really. You'd certainly have to read all the same books I have, and learn the same spells. I'm not using anything new, just changing the way I use it, like the Patronus. If you can't cast a full Patronus, you won't be able to conjure a lightsaber with it. Second, you don't like to study, Ron. I never really did, either, of course, but since I started this, studying has become essential to it, and you can't become a Jedi without study. And even though I was joking with Snape the other day, I wasn't kidding about it being unusual for a Gryffindor to learn patience. We've all got that brash streak in us, and I've had to learn how to calm down and think before acting. That's hard for anyone to do. The main character in those books, Luke, had the same problem, and I'm not saying you can't overcome it, just that it's hard.

"Then there's the physical stuff. There's no such thing as a lazy Jedi. You'd have to start a physical fitness routine, and you'd need to learn how to fight with your body, not just your wand. In fact, I started with simple things that any Muggle could learn; physical fitness and meditation. You'd have to start there, too.

"I had motivation, and it wasn't so I could learn some cool new tricks. I was trying to get over the death of Cedric, and I was trying to get ready for Voldemort. And I'm no Jedi, not yet. There's a lot I don't know yet. I'm still evolving. In a way, I'm building the way of the Jedi here on Earth, sorting through the parts and pieces between wizardry and fantasy and mysticism to find a solid path.

"And there are dangers on that path for anyone trying to walk it. Not dangers like mixing Neville and Potions, but dangers like becoming the thing you're fighting."

"The dark side," whispered Hermione, trying not to break the mood Harry had set with his monologue. "You're afraid of falling to the dark side."

"I am. The night before we left for school, your mum was trying to deal with that boggart in the drawing room at the place we're staying. It kept turning into all of you, but you were dead. Your dad, and me and all your brothers, too. So Remus and I went in to help her get rid of it. Of course it became a full moon for Remus. But for me, it became me, only a me that was evil. That's my greatest fear, that I will fail and fall as Tom Riddle and Anakin Skywalker failed. Of course Tom did it on purpose, and Anakin was fictional. But there is nothing in the world that says I'm too good to fall just as far. I'm very careful of my emotions, and if I'm angry or scared, I don't touch my magic, or the force."

Ron said, "I don't get it."

Harry smiled. "I know. Let me put it this way. I could have killed Dolores Umbridge tonight." The three Weasleys flinched back. "Yes. She was torturing me by my own hand. I could have become full of righteous anger, taken that bloody quill and caused it to imbed itself in her throat." He paused to make them think about that. "Tom Riddle, if he were the student, would certainly have done something like that, though he would probably have been more subtle about it. But what I chose to do instead was sink myself into the force, allow it to keep me from feeling the pain, and focus on being calm and getting through it. I must never allow myself to become drunk on the power I wield. It's that sort of thing I'm fighting; I don't need to add myself to it."

There was absolute quiet for a moment. Then Ron nodded. "I think I understand, Harry. But I don't want to sit on the sidelines, either."

He grinned at him. "Good." Everyone relaxed at his joviality. "Ron you're one of the best chess players this school has ever seen. You beat a chess set charmed by Professor McGonagall in your first year, and you've only gotten better since. What you should do to help in the coming fight is learn all you can about strategy and tactics. I don't know if there are any wizarding books on the strategies of war, but I know there are a lot of Muggle ones. Strategies and tactics are about concepts involved battle, not specific techniques, so they apply to magical battles as well as to Muggle ones, and if you can learn that sort of thing, you'll be of great help as Voldemort steps up the fighting. And study what he did last time, so we can figure out what he'll do this time."

"What about us?" Fred and George asked in chorus.

"I think you two would be best suited to arming the Order. Your abilities with Charms and Potions would allow you to come up with all sorts of weapons and trap spells. If we know where a fight is going to happen, we could mine the battlefield. But even if we don't, we could do spell grenades, or something like that. You could make armor to protect people from spellfire. I'm sure you two are much more imaginative than me when it comes to that kind of thing." The twins looked at one another, and matching slow, evil grins came across their faces. "Weapons are not pranks. They should be able to incapacitate or end an enemy. We're not involved in a police action but a war, and there are going to be casualties on both sides. Personally, I'd rather it were more of them than us." That made the twins drop their grins, but they both nodded.

Finally, Harry said, "Hermione, you are the most organized person I have ever met, and I grew up with a woman who was pathologically neat. You're smarter than all of Ravenclaw, and you also tend to think of the little things that everyone else is in too much of a hurry to remember, noticing the tiniest details, like what was under Fluffy's feet. So I think you should be involved in logistics and research."

In a quiet voice, Hermione said, "Do you think it is going to come to war?"

Harry sighed. "Yes. Other than his obsession with killing me, Voldemort wants to take over the world. You don't do that without an army. Honestly, I don't think he has any idea how hard it would be to take over the whole world, but with the state of magical Britain, I think he could take over here."

George said, "What do you mean?"

"You might have noticed how easily manipulated the average witch or wizard is in this country. They believe whatever the paper tells them. If the paper tells them to hate me, they do. If the paper tells them I'm the only one who can save them, they'll believe that, too, and try to find a hole to pull over their heads. They're far too trusting of authority, and when, not if, he gains a foothold in the Ministry, he'll have the wizarding population of Britain."

With a grin on his face, Ron said, "Are you sure you need a strategist?"

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, I do. I can see the board, but you're much better at playing the game, mate." Then he sobered. "All right. Everyone get some rest. We have Defense in the morning."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Harry got back from his run the next morning just in time to grab a high-protein breakfast and get to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Kang paired everyone up, but since there was an odd number of students, he kept Harry up at the front with himself. He began teaching basic shielding charms, using Harry to help him demonstrate by firing first-year hexes at him. His shield was perfect, as one would expect from the instructor, and he also moved among the students, helping them where it was needed.

At the end of class, he demonstrated the most sophisticated of shielding charms, the Patronus Charm. "The Patronus is the highest form of shield charm," he said, "not because it is the most powerful against spellfire, but because it depends on pure emotion for its strength. You must feel a strong, pure, and positive emotion to create it, emotions like happiness or love. And if the emotion or the memory is strong enough, you can produce a corporeal Patronus, one which is not only mist or smoke, but appears in the form of an animal which represents your most protective instincts. I will demonstrate."

He drew his wand, and pointing at the opposite wall, he said, "Expecto Patronum." Out of his wand came a silver crane, which proceeded to flit about the room for a moment before landing back in front of the Aikido Master.

"The corporeal Patronus has many uses. It can provide light in the dark without fear of lighting a fire. It can be sent as a messenger over long distances. And it can protect against, drive off, or even kill dementors, if one knows how."

When class let out, Master Kang kept Harry back for a moment. "I have found us a training ground. A house elf named Dobby, who is apparently very attached to you, knew of a place that could be completely hidden and which would provide any training materials which we might require. It is called the Room of Requirement, and it provides whatever one may require at the time he requires it." He handed Harry a small bit of parchment. "Be at this location at six in the morning tomorrow, and we'll decide on a schedule at that time."

"Thank you, M—Professor." Harry colored at having almost called him Master. He couldn't let that get out.

But Professor Kang just smiled. "See you then, Mr. Potter."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Harry took his lunch outside that afternoon, just wanting to enjoy what was left of the warm weather before winter set in. Dobby brought him a picnic basket with some ham sandwiches and a small flask of pumpkin juice, and he took it out to a spot on the banks of the lake. Hedwig joined him, and he gave her part of his sandwich, which she shredded happily.

"She's really quite fond of you," said a voice behind him. It was Luna Lovegood.

Harry smiled at her. "I don't deserve her. But she's still among my first friends, and I wouldn't trade her for the world."

"Why are you out here today?"

"Because it'll soon be winter. Care to join me?"

"Thank you, I will." She transfigured a leaf into a checkered blanket and sat down on it in front of a large rock. Harry handed her one of the sandwiches. "This is quite nice." They ate for a moment in companionable silence, and then Luna asked, "What is Professor Umbridge doing to you?"

Harry looked at her, focusing his senses on her presence in the force. He found genuine concern, not morbid curiosity, so he answered her, "She's having me write lines with a blood quill. But don't worry. I've informed Madame Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore. The Headmaster went to the Minister and the DMLE with the evidence I got for him. She won't have the opportunity to do it again, to me or anyone else."

"You have a much higher opinion of the Ministry than I have."

"No. I know what they are. But there are four copies of the recording I made that day. If she isn't removed from the castle, I'll be going to the Quibbler and the Daily Prophet both with it. And if she's allowed to continue, she'll quickly find that quill using her own blood instead of mine."

Luna smiled at him. "That sounds fair."

Harry continued looking at her, noticing that she was quite pretty, despite her unusual fashion sense, and that he realized was simply her way of being individual. He took a deep breath, then said, "I'd like to get to know you better. How would you feel about going to Hogsmeade with me the first weekend?"

"I feel that would be wonderful," she said in her light, airy voice. "You will have to ask me to go with you when it is closer, and I will definitely have to tell you yes."

Harry smiled. "That would make me very happy."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

That night's detention began just as the first, with Harry walking into Umbridge's office. Knowing what was coming, at least on her end, Harry opened himself fully to the force, letting it keep his consciousness away from the pain that would soon come from the quill.

But no sooner than he had written a single line, the door to the office was knocked on, and she bade him stop a moment. Harry did so, and she went to answer the door. "Yes, who is it?"

"It is the Headmaster, Dolores. I need to speak with you."

Irritated, she said, "Can't it wait? I'm conducting a detention."

"I'm afraid it cannot wait. The matter is of utmost importance."

Huffing with annoyance, Umbridge opened the door. But Dumbledore was not alone. Behind him stood the Minister and three Aurors, one of them Senior by the mark of rank on his scarlet robe. "What is this!?" she cried. Then she spotted the Minister himself behind them. "Cornelius, what—"

"I told you to find out what he knew, Dolores," said the Minister with a scowl. "I did not tell you to torture the boy!"

Realizing that she was being thrown under the bus, as the Muggles said, Umbridge snarled, "Codswallop! You gave me the quill, and told me to use any means necessary!"

Harry was careful not to let any emotion show on his face, but he was wearing a new recording sphere. The Minister might incriminate himself right here and now so long as he didn't reveal himself.

But the man wasn't quite that stupid, seeing as he was surrounded by Aurors. "A lie, of course, scrambling at straws. Senior Auror Shacklebolt, place Madame Umbridge under arrest."

The tall, dark man approached Madame Umbridge and said, "Dolores Jane Umbridge, you are under arrest for forcing the use of a blood quill on a minor. Please hand over your wand." Glaring at him, she did so, placing it in the evidence bag that he was holding out to her. He sealed the bag and wrote on it what Harry assumed was documentation for evidentiary purposes. Then he said, "Please put your hands behind your back." She did so, and he produced a pair of iron manacles from inside his robes and locked them onto her wrists. Then he started to pull her out of the class room.

"Now, are you all right, Mr. Potter?" asked the Minister. Harry examined the feelings coming from him, and found on top of the pile irritation with Umbridge and a desire for damage control.

"I'm fine today, Minister. I'd only written one line when you all came in. Thank you for acting so promptly against her. Do the Aurors also need the quill?"

"Not a bad idea. Dawlish, take the quill into evidence."

"Yes, Minister," said the other Auror. The man walked over to Harry, who put the quill into another evidence bag at his request.

"Minister Fudge," said Harry, "This all started because you wanted to know the truth. I told Madame Umbridge that I would not tell her, but I asked her to tell you that I was willing to tell you personally. Did she ever convey that to you?"

Fudge's eyebrows shot into his hairline, and that was quite a feat. "No, she didn't."

"You could not hear my testimony on the night of the Third Task. Fear is a powerful thing, and it may take even the best of us time to defeat it. If you are ready, I will allow you to view my memory of that night. If you are not, then please know that this is an open invitation. You may see it whenever you wish."

Fudge opened and closed his mouth a few times. Harry had very carefully not called him a coward, and was being quite gracious, not blaming Fudge for what had occurred here and offering him the very information he wanted. But it was equally clear that Harry still believed Voldemort had returned. "I realize that you believe this, young man. I'm sure that the memory would be quite convincing."

Harry shook his head. "Then why send Madame Umbridge?" He knew that he could probably influence the Minister through the force, but he didn't feel it would be right to do so. This had to be his own decision.

For a moment it looked as though the man would fold, but then he shook his head, his stubbornness reasserting itself. "He can't be back!" he whispered.

Harry shook his head in disappointment. "All right, if that is your decision, I will abide by it. But I must also do what I feel is right, and letting him win is not right. Only please be assured that nothing I do is against you, it is against him. For now, that means becoming prepared. It means learning, and I'm a student anyway. I might research things I wouldn't in peacetime, but I'm still just learning. Isn't that what I'm supposed to be doing in any case?"

Fudge stared at him. Professor Dumbledore was smiling at him with pride, but Harry tried to ignore that, needing to focus on the Minister. He said, "Well, I can't disagree with that. It's a student's job to learn. Very well. Good luck in your OWL year, Mr. Potter." Then he turned and left the room, the Aurors and Madame Umbridge in tow.

Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Dumbledore said, "Let's get you out of here, shall we?" He nodded and picked up his book bag, and they left the office together. "It is sad that the Minister won't be working with us on this."

"Yes, but at least now he won't be working against us. I'll settle for him staying out of the way."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

The next morning, Harry resumed his individual instruction with Master Kang. He began to learn how to properly use the sword against an opponent, which was the factor he'd been missing while learning on his own, and he showed Master Kang how he was able to touch the ambient magic, which he was calling the force of magic. They decided that they should meet every weekday morning, leaving the weekend for rest and meditation.

Master Kang said, "I would also like you to consider writing a book of your own."

Harry's eyebrows went up with surprise. "Me? Write a book?"

"You have, through very simple techniques of experimentation and reasoning, developed an entirely new theory of magic. You should document it, and perhaps eventually pass on what you are learning. That is one of the major tenets of the Jedi, is it not?"

Harry nodded, thinking. There had been many Star Wars books written after Return of the Jedi, books that continued to follow Luke Skywalker and his family, and he had read all that the library had. But Master Kang wasn't asking him to write a new fiction. He was asking him to write down the reality that he'd found in the fiction, a book detailing the ways of the force, a Jedi Bible, as it were. He didn't think he'd name it that, though. "It's not a bad idea. But I have not begun to know everything to know there is to know about the force. I'm by no means an expert!"

Master Kang smiled at him. "I did not say or think that you were. Nor is it time to write this volume. But I would suggest that you start a notebook, a journal, and begin documenting your observations of the force and the techniques you discover. Then, when it is time for you to begin writing, you will have your research on hand, and when you have finished your writing, you will have a firm foundation upon which to teach. You will also need to write the rules for being a Jedi Knight. I would even go so far as to write Mr. Lucas and ask him what those rules are for the Jedi that he wrote about, and use them for a starting point."

"It sounds like the work of a lifetime." And Harry wasn't sure that he had that kind of time left. To be honest, though he was going to give his very best effort to rid the world of Voldemort, he had no assurance that he would be successful. There was every chance that he would die in the attempt.

"Harry, you must believe that you will be successful, or you surely will not be."

The young man looked up at his teacher and slowly smiled. " 'There is no try.' "

Master Kang grinned at him. "Exactly."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

The class that Madame Umbridge had taught was not wiped off the books, but instead turned into an introductory course for first years only. A new teacher was brought in and he actually brought the new students, especially the Muggleborns, up to speed on the culture of the wizarding Britain. Being a Muggleborn himself, Professor Cisco understood what those youngest students needed to know.

With the distraction of Umbridge removed, the whole school breathed a sigh of relief and moved on. Of course, it was still Harry and his friends' OWL year, so they were being murdered by homework, but now they didn't have to worry about being murdered by a teacher.

Master Kang had everyone practicing hex avoidance, which ended up working like a game of dodge ball. He would stand on one side of the classroom and the students would all stand on the other side, then he would shoot low-powered stinging hexes at them. He did this with Harry during sword practice as well, only he had him using the lightsaber charm and blocking them rather than dodging. Master Kang's own connection to the force was steadily increasing, and he marveled at the new world of perception that it had opened up.

Quidditch tryouts went off without a hitch, and Ron made Keeper. Harry had a little talk with him about keeping a balance between Quidditch, study, and down time, and Ron took the advice as a way of becoming a great Quidditch player, but it was Harry's way of getting his best mate to study without Hermione having to fuss at him. The rest of the team looked like it would be a good one, and Harry was able to concentrate on his studies as well. Of course, he also had a fourth thing to add to his mix thanks to his studies with Master Kang, but it wasn't as difficult as it could be thanks to his new meditation skills and the fact that his abilities with the force were increasing his skills with wizarding magic as well. They really increased his retention to boot, and that made all of his studying easier, no matter the subject.

Of course, Draco was still making himself a nuisance. He and his mates tried to disrupt the Gryffindor practices often, especially trying to upset Ron so that he'd play badly. Harry set up a Silencing Charm on Ron's robes, and expanded the size of the effect so that Ron could still hear the other players, but he couldn't hear anything from people on the ground. Then he said, "Until you learn to ignore him, he'll always be able to get at you. You need to stop worrying about what he thinks and says, because they don't matter. Concentrate on your goal posts and the Quaffle, all right?"

That night as they all worked on their homework, Hermione was helping Ron with Astronomy because he kept mixing up Jupiter's moons, and Harry was finishing up his essay on the nature of dream prediction for Professor Trelawney when Ron received a letter from his brother Percy. Given the attitude that Percy had toward his family lately, Harry had a bad feeling about it.

Ron read the letter and slowly turned red. Then he tossed it down and got up in disgust, mumbling, "I need the loo."

With Ron away from the table, Harry and Hermione read the letter together.

 _Dear Ron,_

 _I have only just heard (from no less a person than the Minister of Magic himself, who has it from your former teacher, Professor Umbridge) that you have become a Hogwarts prefect._

 _I was most pleasantly surprised when I heard this news and must firstly offer my congratulations. I must admit that I have always been afraid that you would take what we might call the "Fred and George" route, rather than following in my footsteps, so you can imagine my feelings on hearing you have stopped flouting authority and have decided to shoulder some real responsibility._

 _But I want to give you more than congratulations, Ron, I want to give you some advice, which is why I am sending this at night rather than by the usual morning post. Hopefully you will be able to read this away from prying eyes and avoid awkward questions._

 _From something the Minister let slip when telling me you are now a prefect, I gather that you are still seeing a lot of Harry Potter. I must tell you, Ron, that nothing could put you in danger of losing your badge more than continued fraternization with that boy. Yes, I am sure you are surprised to hear this_ — _no doubt you will say that Potter has always been Dumbledore's favorite_ — _but I feel bound to tell you that Dumbledore may not be in charge at Hogwarts much longer and the people who count have a very different_ — _and probably more accurate_ — _view of Potters behavior. I shall say no more here, but if you look at the_ Daily Prophet _tomorrow you will get a good idea of the way the wind is blowing_ — _and see if you can spot yours truly!_

 _Seriously, Ron, you do not want to be tarred with the same brush as Potter, it could be very damaging to your future prospects, and I am talking here about life after school too. It may be that you are afraid to sever ties with him_ — _I know that he can be unbalanced and, for all I know, violent_ — _but if you have any worries about this, or have spotted anything else in Potter's behavior that is troubling you, I urge you to owl me and I will be only too happy to advise you._

 _This leads me to my other bit of advice. As I have hinted above, Dumbledore's regime at Hogwarts may soon be over. Your loyalty, Ron, should be not to him, but to the school and the Ministry. I am very sorry to hear that Professor Umbridge was so horribly misunderstood when she tried to correct Potter's behavior that he had her arrested on charges of abuse. Of course she only had his best interests and those of the school at heart, but though she most certainly became too enthusiastic in her approach, even her most reasonable ideas were not even considered!_

 _I am sorry that I was unable to see more of you over the summer. It pains me to criticize our parents, but I am afraid I can no longer live under their roof while they remain mixed up with the dangerous crowd around Dumbledore (if you are writing to Mother at any point, you might tell her that a certain Sturgis Podmore, who is a great friend of Dumbledore's, has recently been sent to Azkaban for trespass at the Ministry. Perhaps that will open their eyes to the kind of petty criminals with whom they are currently rubbing shoulders). I count myself very lucky to have escaped the stigma of association with such people — the Minister really could not be more gracious to me — and I do hope, Ron, that you will not allow family ties to blind you to the misguided nature of our parents' beliefs and actions either. I sincerely hope that, in time, they will realize how mistaken hey were and I shall, of course, be ready to accept a full apology when that day comes._

 _Please think over what I have said most carefully, particularly the bit about Harry Potter, and congratulations again on becoming prefect._

 _Your brother,_

 _Percy_

Harry shook his head. "Well I guess that answers any question we had about the Minister." Then he sighed. "I'm writing him a letter. He shouldn't abandon his family like this."

Ron came back to the table said, "Give it back," said Ron, holding out his hand. "He is —" Ron said jerkily, tearing Percy's letter in half, "the world's" — he tore it into quarters — "biggest" — he tore it into eighths — _git._ " He threw the pieces into the fire.

Harry said, "He's still your brother. Hopefully he'll come around soon enough." He abandoned his homework for about fifteen minutes and wrote a letter for Percy. He'd walk up to the owlry in the morning and have Hedwig deliver it for him. It said,

 _Percy Weasley,_

 _I know you think I'm dangerous. But I'm not writing you about me. I'm writing you about your family. I think it's wrong of you to abandon them just because you've had a disagreement._

 _I never got to know my parents, never got a chance to have any siblings. I can't imagine having those things. But you can. And you're willing to let that slip away._

 _I had the misfortune of watching your Mum try to deal with a boggart this summer. It kept turning into various members of the family, dead. It had her in tears until Professor Lupin got between her and it. Whether you believe in the thing she's afraid of or not, there's still the element of chance in everyday life that you might never have the chance to see her again._

 _All I'm saying is that you should contact her. Don't talk politics, just talk to your Mum. Talk to your Dad. Don't lose your family because you disagree with them._

 _I know you don't believe me about Voldemort. But do you know that the reason I'm fighting him isn't for me? It's not for fun, it's not even to survive. It's for my friends and family. Like it or not, I count you among them, along with all your family. I think_ _that_ _is something that we can both agree on._

 _Sincerely hopeful,_

 _Harry Potter_

Harry read it one last time, then nodded to himself and sealed it with wax. Then he went back to his homework.

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

 _Notes: The letter from Harry to Percy is somewhat poignant for me. It's a combination of circumstances. My husband's family are having issues, and we lost both my mother and his stepfather in the last year or so. It makes me want to scream at times that they're all being so foolish when they know just how short life can be, and as I go through this story and I see Percy making the same mistakes, I couldn't help myself but to say something. It also seemed in character for this calmer, more thoughtful Harry to give Percy something to think about._


	7. The Investigator

**Chapter Seven: The Investigator**

 _Note: I have decided that the part of Master Kang will be played by Chow Yun Fat._

 _Thank you everyone for your awesome comments! I didn't see any in particular that needed addressed here in the notes. I do, however, want to apologize for it being so late in coming. Hope you all enjoy this latest installment._

* * *

The next morning, the three friends expected to have to search the _Daily Prophet_ for the news article that Percy had alluded to in his letter. But there was no such need. It was on the front page.

 **Ministry Seeks Educational Reform**

 **Percival Weasley Appointed Hogwarts Special Investigator**

They all exchanged a glance, then Hermione began to read the article aloud.

" _In a surprise move last night the Ministry of Magic passed new legislation giving itself an unprecedented level of control at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

" ' _The Minister has been growing uneasy about goings-on at Hogwarts for some time,' said Junior Assistant to the Minister, Percy Weasley. "He is now responding to concerns voiced by anxious parents, who feel the school may be moving in a direction they do not approve.'_

" _The Ministry has now passed Educational Decree Twenty-three, which creates the position of Hogwarts Special Investigator, a position intended to provide the Minister with a clear picture of what is really going on in the ancient institution, and understand to what standards our children and their educators are being held. Mr. Weasley has humbly accepted his nomination to this position, and promises to be an impartial judge of conditions in the school. He will have the right and responsibility to inspect each of the teachers at each grade level and to make report directly to the Minister himself._

" _The Ministry's new moves have received enthusiastic support from parents of students at Hogwarts._

" ' _I feel much easier in my mind now that I know that Dumbledore is being subjected to fair and objective evaluation,' said Mr. Lucius Malfoy, 41, speaking from his Wilshire mansion last night. 'Many of us with our children's best interests at heart have been concerned about some of Dumbledore's eccentric decisions in the last few years and will be glad to know that the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation.'_

" _Among those 'eccentric decisions' are undoubtedly the controversial staff appointments previously described in this newspaper, which have included the hiring of werewolf Remus Lupin, half-giant Rubeus Hagrid, and delusional ex-Auror 'Mad-Eye' Moody._

" _Rumors abound, of course, that Albus Dumbledore, once Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, is no longer up to the task of managing the prestigious school of Hogwarts._

" ' _I think the appointment of the Special Investigator is a first step toward ensuring that Hogwarts has a headmaster in whom we can all repose confidence,' said a Ministry insider last night._

" _Wizengamot elders Griselda Marchbanks and Tiberius Ogden have initiated dramatic protests at the investigation of Hogwarts and its teachers._

" ' _Hogwarts is a school, not an outpost of Cornelius Fudge's office,' said Madame Marchbanks. 'This is a further disgusting attempt to discredit Albus Dumbledore.' (For a full account of Madame Marchbanks' alleged links to subversive goblin groups, turn to page 17)."_

Hermione finished reading and looked across the table at the other two. "So now Percy has the authority to inspect the teachers, and probably to make staffing recommendations, all with his nose so far up Fudge's ambitions he's blind. This is outrageous!"

Harry hoped his letter reached the other boy before he arrived at the school.

But a grin was unfurling on Ron's face.

"What?" said Harry and Hermione together, staring at him.

"Oh, I can't wait to see McGonagall inspected," said Ron happily. "Percy won't know what hit him."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Percy was neither in their History of Magic class, nor in their Potions class. Professor Snape returned their moonstone essays marked as they would be if they were OWL exams, so that the students would have an idea of what to expect and how far they needed to improve. Harry got an E on the essay, and in a playful manner withheld that information from Hermione until they reached the Great Hall for lunch. Fred and George mentioned that Percy had inspected Professor Flitwick just before lunch. "It wasn't too bad," said Fred. "He just lurked in a corner taking note on a clip board. Flitwick treated him like a guest, and he behaved like one."

"Who've you got this afternoon?" Fred asked Harry.

"Trelawney, and Professor Kang."

"Right. Well with Umbridge out of the way you shouldn't have any more trouble, so no more detentions, all right?" said George. "Angelina'll do her nut if you miss any more Quidditch practices."

Percy was already in the Tower when they went up for Divination, calmly sitting in a corner chair. Though Professor Trelawney looked quite nervous at having a visitor, she went about her class as usual, passing out copies of _Dream Oracles_ and instructing the class to divide into pairs and begin interpreting each other's dreams. Percy asked her a few questions, namely about the length of her tenure and the originator of her appointment to the position of Divination teacher. He also asked her plainly what was required to teach the subject from an administrative point of view.

Then he asked her if any students had shown any natural talents in Divination, and Harry sighed as his name, of course, came up. "Why yes! Mr. Potter has, in fact, been receiving some very lucid dreams of late. We're not sure yet if he will develop into a true Seer, or if the Spirit World is trying to get his attention for a specific, but temporary, reason. According to him it is a recent phenomenon. And as it is time to check on the students' progress, let's just see if he's had any repetitions."

Harry looked at Ron with a raised eyebrow as the two came over to his table. "Now, my dear, have you had any further visions along the same line, or are they still randomized?"

Taking a deep breath, he answered her. "I'm not sure yet if it's a pattern, as I've only had this dream repeat once. It's of a room in the castle, full to the brim with various kinds of lost and broken things. There are books, papers, furniture, dishes. And on one of the piles, the dream focuses in on a single object. It's a tarnished silver tiara on a stack of books. It casts two shadows. The one on the right is normal, cast by the light. But the other shadow is darkness, and has only ever come from darkness." He shook his head. "I still have no idea what it means, but—" He stopped, thinking about the image. "It's not going anywhere. It's important, but it's not urgent."

"Fascinating," said Professor Trelawney. "And would you judge this to be a figurative or literal vision?"

Harry thought about it, and reached out to the force, putting the images from the vision into the forefront of his mind. The same image was mirrored back, along with a feeling of darkness coming from the tiara. "Literal. It's a cursed object. But where it is, or why I'm being warned about it, I have no idea."

Trelawney nodded sagely. "Yes, it is often hard to tell the why behind a prophetic vision. And all of your other others have still been randomized?"

"Yes."

"Well keep up with that dream journal, and perhaps further clues will be provided later."

Not long after that, class was over, and Harry and Ron got ready to leave class. Percy stopped Harry with a hand on his shoulder. He gave him an intense look and nodded. Harry smiled slightly and nodded in acknowledgement. Percy was going to contact his mother.

There were several other classes over the next few days which featured Percy sitting quietly in a corner and taking notes. He inspected Professor McGonagall and Professor Grubbly-Plank while Harry, Ron and Hermione were in those classes, but they didn't see any of the other inspections until the last one, with Professor Kang.

Percy didn't seem to know what to make of the aged, but agile, old Master. Not only was he teaching them magic, but he was also teaching them truly basic self-defense; how to dodge spells and snap wands, not just use defensive magic. And he didn't use the terms witch or wizard, but woman or man instead. At the end of the class, trying to make a point to Percy, and thereby the Minister, Harry asked Professor Kang, "What should we do if we are confronted with a non-magical assailant?"

Well aware of the tensions between his student and the Ministry, Professor Kang nodded. "This is another area where it would depend on how they intended to attack you. But the most important thing to remember is not to underestimate a man just because he has no ability to use magic. He may have a knife, or a gun, or even," and he drew his katana from the sheathe at his back, "a sword." He let the class stare at him in shock for a while, then continued. "But even those weapons are not the only way a man can hurt you without magic. Some, like myself, have trained their bodies in such a way as to be a living weapon, though these are far fewer. The average man or woman on the street is fairly lazy, and it is far easier to shoot you with a spell or a gun than it is to learn the disciplines of the various martial arts."

Here the professor paused, then sheathed his sword and had everyone return to their desks. "I have one last thought for you today. One of these days, you will leave these stone halls and enter the real world. You will no longer be children, no longer have the relative protection afforded the innocent by some evil men. A thief may hesitate to steal from a child where he would not from an adult. The dark wizard who threatened your country thirteen years ago was not the first of his kind, nor will he be the last, and it will take skilled men and women to resist such creatures. That is why we teach you how to defend yourselves now, when you are still young and relatively safe. Because that will not always be the case." The bell rang, and as the students began gathering their possessions to leave, he said, "Don't forget, your OWL revisions are due next class, and the only one you hurt by not doing them is yourself."

Percy nodded to himself and scribbled furiously on his note pad.

Harry left the classroom with Ron, and they went to lunch together. Ron asked Harry, "Do you think Percy will try to have any of the teachers sacked?"

"I honestly don't, Ron. He might have a very Slytherin amount of ambition, but he's still honest. He's seen for himself what's actually being taught, and he won't think we're trying to build an army or anything."

* * *

Harry was proven right, and things evened out at the school. Harry ordered a leather-bound parchment journal from Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, one which included a magical lock which would only open with the correct key and was charmed against basic unlocking charms. It was also charmed smudge-proof and waterproof, had an Obscurus Charm that could be triggered with the tap of his wand to prevent over-shoulder snooping, and had his initials engraved onto the front cover in gold.

Into this book he began to write his observations about the force and its several aspects. He wrote down everything he had done with it up to this point, wrote down the Patronus Sword Spell, and the various techniques he had begun using to access it, including his thoughts about how one should be considered to have attained the ranking of Knight or Master. A Jedi Knight would have to swear to uphold a code of morality and conduct, concepts he was still trying to find the right words for, and he would have to pass certain tests before he'd be allowed to make that oath. It would be a magically binding oath, so it could not be entered into lightly. It should only be taken by those who passed the tests, understood the oath, and truly agreed to it. It couldn't be something like the Triwizard Tournament, which he'd been entered into against his will.

Harry's training with Master Kang proceeded at a truly impressive rate now that they had access to the Room of Requirement. He was not only going through katas now, but was also improvising, sparing against both his Master and several opponent dummies that the Room brought forth for him. Because of that success, Master Kang brought in a new kind of tool for their training. It was a metal ball the size of a large orange or a small grapefruit, and it was covered with evenly spaced wooden studs. It had obviously been made with magic, as it was able to float and flit around the room, but it was based on something from the Star Wars books, and realizing what it was made Harry grin. "It's a practice drone, isn't it?"

"Yes. It can be set with increasingly strong stunners and can be set either to a flight pattern or to a truly random flight path, bordered only by the confines of the room it is flying in. I wouldn't use it on that setting while outdoors, however. Now, we're going to test your ability to use the force outside of your own senses. Trust in the force to show you the drone, and to show you where it is aiming. We already know that you can block stunners with your lightsaber, which is why I used the stunner, but something I'm going to want to do later is find out if that ability to block spells has any limitations." He picked up a motorcycle helmet, a grin on his face. "For now, let's see how you're doing." Then he handed the helmet to Harry.

Harry looked at the helmet, and he saw that the face shield had been rendered completely opaque. He nodded and put the helmet on, fastening the strap under his chin. He drew his oaken sword, then flipped the face shield down. He focused on the sword and cast the Patronus Sword Charm, reaching out with the force to find the remote. In the darkness of the helmet he was made completely blind, but this made him instinctively reach for the force, and in its currents and eddies he easily found the remote. What was not easy was figuring out where it was aiming.

Harry was not completely successful that day, and received several low-powered stunners to his arms, and one to his rear end that was just embarrassing, but Master Kang assured him he shouldn't expect to pick everything up instantaneously.

Three days later, Harry was sitting at dinner, writing in his journal, when he sensed ill intention behind him and tensed. He activated the Obscurus Charm on the journal to be on the safe side. Sure enough, Malfoy snatched the book away. He said, "What's this? Keeping a private diary, are we Potter? Not too private here at the dinner table."

Harry smirked at him. "Private enough."

Malfoy frowned, not being able to read the text. He held it in one hand, reaching for his wand, likely with the intention of casting a revealing charm. But Harry took the opportunity to close the book with a quick touch of the force, and closing the book activated the locking mechanism.

Unable to break into the journal, Malfoy tossed it to the table and moved on. Harry shook his head at the retreating white head, then returned to his dinner, only to see Ginny Weasley looking at the diary as if it were going to explode. Fear was coming off of her in waves, and frankly it was making him ill. He knew. The sight of the diary had triggered her buried anxieties about the diary of Tom Riddle.

"Ginny," he said softly. "It's not him, I promise, and I'm not doing what he did." He tried to calm her, as he had done once for Hermione. But it was not as effective against fear as it had been against rage, especially not so deeply rooted a fear as this. "This is just me putting my thoughts and experiences on parchment."

But she shook her head, got up from the table and ran out of the dining hall as fast as she could. He took a deep breath and let it out again.

Hermione had seen the whole thing. "I'll go talk to her."

Harry nodded. "I'm sure she'll appreciate a friendly face. And I'm never doing this at the dinner table again."

* * *

Seeing Harry sitting in front of the fire every night with his legs curled up underneath him and his hands laying palms up on his knees had become a common sight in the Gryffindor common room, so no one remarked it. However, tonight was no ordinary night. Tonight, Harry was actively trying to see the future through the force. He'd read many of the books that Professor Trelawney had recommended, having seen in him a true talent for Divination, and a budding Seer. But rather than use any of the trappings of fortune telling that she so often used, like tea leaves and crystal balls, he was relying solely on the magic of the earth to tell him what it wanted him to know.

He could see the force of magic more readily now than he could when he first began, and could see more clearly through its churning depths. He'd only been doing this for a few months, so he predicted that trend would continue. It affected everything, from his schoolwork and spell-casting to his interactions with his fellow students, the teachers, and his friends. He could see several flashes that could only be tiny slices of the future; himself holding a baby girl with golden curls and his mothers green eyes; Hogwarts embroiled in a massive battle, spell-fire everywhere, war wards cracking overhead before collapsing; a high-ceilinged room of towering shelves, covered in dusty orbs of glass, some with a warm glow coming from within, others gone dark. The final image he was given was of Arthur Weasley standing in a hallway. Behind him, silently slithering along the base of the wall was a massive snake, and it rose up against him as he read the _Daily Prophet_. Harry spotted the date on the corner of the newspaper and quickly memorized it. Then the snake struck, over and over, leaving Arthur a bleeding, bruised mess.

Coming out of the trance, Harry quickly wrote down all of the visions in his dream journal, beginning with the last so that he would not forget the date on the paper, the eighteenth of November. That was still several weeks away, so there was time to prevent it. He would need to report the vision to Headmaster Dumbledore so that he could take the necessary precautions.

Harry knew one way to make sure that the Headmaster knew about this. He wrote a quick note, and then called for Dobby. The tiny humanoid popped into existence and said, "What can Dobby do for the great Harry Potter?"

"Stop calling me great, for one. But for now, please deliver this message to the Headmaster. If he needs to speak with me, I'll be awake for another hour or so working on homework. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course, Harry Potter, sir. Dobby will do it at once." And with a snap of his fingers and a crack in the air, the elf was gone.

Having done what he could for Mr. Weasley, Harry turned his thoughts to the first of his visions, the little blond child. She was his daughter, of that he had no doubt. What was in doubt was whether or not he would survive the coming conflict so that she could be born. And who, he wondered, was her mother? He was a teenager, so girls were definitely on his radar, but it seemed that the force already knew enough to say he would have one, if not who.

He had a thought, and went to the fire in the hearth and gently levitated out one of the coals. He then concentrated on making the molecules it was made of still and become cold so that he could touch it. Once that was done, he took it in hand, and while focusing on that vision of the future, he sketched his daughter's face onto the parchment beneath the description of the vision.

He felt Hermione watching him over his shoulder, so he wasn't surprised when she said, "Wow, Harry. That's really good. Who is it?"

Harry smiled a smile of wonder. "She's my daughter." Shock came off of his friend in a wave. "Oh, she's not even possible just yet. But the force showed her to me."

Hermione sat down next to him, processing that thought. "That's—that's amazing, Harry. Ron said Professor Trelawney was taking a more positive interest in you. Is this why?"

He nodded. "She thinks she's found the next great Seer. She doesn't know how I'm getting such vivid visions and dreams, of course, but she has been of a help in showing me what to look for, what's a regular dream and what's coming from the force of magic."

Hermione looked again at the sketch of the infant girl, looking carefully at the shape of her face and features, a suspicion forming in her mind. "I think I know who her mother might be."

Harry grinned at her ruefully. "Don't tell me. If it happens, it happens. I don't need to know who she is until I've figured that out for myself."

"You and Ron are my best friends, Harry. I'd like for you to find happiness some day."

His grin softened into a smile. "And you really want to find happiness with Ron, don't you?"

She blushed. "Yes."

"I may have to prod him to get him to realize that."

"Harry! Don't you dare!"

Harry spotted Ron coming down the stairs from the boys' dorm, and felt bad feelings begin from his friend as he thought he and Hermione might be flirting or something. To nip that in the bud, he waved Ron over, and the other boy realized he'd been imagining it. For the next half-hour, the three of them discussed homework and Quidditch, and other random things. He made no mention of the vision he'd had of Ron's father being hurt, not wanting to upset him when there was plenty of warning to avert it.

Then Dobby popped back into the room. "The Headmaster asks you to come and see him in his office, Harry Potter, sir."

Suddenly all business, Harry bowed in acknowledgement, then stood to go. Ron said, "What's the Headmaster want, Harry?"

"I think he wants to know more about my visions."

Ron frowned. "Trelawney must've told him. You think that can help—you know—" he looked around to make sure no one else was listening, "the 'old crowd'?"

Harry said honestly, "I certainly hope so." Then he turned and left.

* * *

It took Harry several minutes to describe his methods to Professor Dumbledore, and several more to describe what he'd seen. Then the aged wizard fell silent, sitting back in his chair and mulling over what he had just learned. He said softly, "I took the time to read the book you began with. A truly remarkable story. But your recreation of its physics, for lack of a better word, is far more so, and I must congratulate you."

He paused, then continued. "Harry, the corridor you saw Arthur guarding has at its end the door to the Hall of Prophecy in the Department of Mysteries, one of the many Departments of the Ministry for Magic. The room with the globes in it is that very Hall. Each one contains a prophecy. Those that were dark have either been fulfilled or negated. Those which still glowed contain a currently valid prophecy. One of them has your name on it, and Voldemort's. If anyone other than either of you touches it, it will be destroyed in a minor explosion. Voldemort knows only half of the prophecy, because the man who told it to him only overheard so much before running off to tell his master it."

Harry swallowed a feeling of trepidation. "Were you the person who heard that prophecy?"

"Well deduced. Yes, I was. Perhaps I should have told you before now, but honestly, I didn't want to add this on top of your other burdens." Professor Dumbledore looked old, as if the weight of his knowledge had stripped years from his life.

Slowly, Harry said, "The force of magic isn't exactly like the force of Star Wars, you know. There are certain paths that magic can take which would have been unavailable to a Jedi of the Star Wars universe, paths like transfiguration and charms. But there is every reason to believe that seeing the future through prophecy and through accessing the force of magic will still produce similar results. The future is always in motion, difficult to see. Professor Trelawney has told me that even when a prophecy is made, it can be negated by the choices of those involved, and I know this is true of the force, as well. With knowledge, this future you're worried about could be changed."

The Headmaster stared at Harry, his eyes widening in surprise. His eyes flitted around a little as he thought about it, then he said, "Just as you've changed the future that you saw for Arthur Weasley." He nodded, and said, "You're right, of course. All right. The prophecy foretold that a male child would be born at the end of July to parents who had defied Voldemort three times. It stated that this child would have the power to defeat him, power that he does not know of. But it also stated that he would himself mark the child as his equal, and that either must die by the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives."

Harry sat back, trying to get hold of his emotions. He was being told that he was foretold to either kill Voldemort or be killed by him. "So he tried to kill me before I could stand against him, but Mum's sacrifice, whatever she did, ensured that what he did would mark me instead of kill me. And whether I choose to believe this prophecy or not, he does, and will continue to try to kill me." He thought about it, centering and meditating lightly so that his emotions, which wanted to rage against anything and everything right now, stayed calm. "Do you believe this power to be the force?"

"I certainly believe that it's possible."

"I understand. May I be excused?" Harry suddenly felt the need to get out of there, to get somewhere he could explode in peace.

"Of course."

Harry left the office quickly, scrambling for the force as he went to return calm to his mind. It wasn't working, not completely, but it was enough to stop him from doing anything rash. He headed for the seventh floor and the Room of Requirement. Inside, he walked into a room that was suddenly full of breakable objects and bare stone walls. Closing his mind to the force, he allowed himself to indulge his anger and frustration without the risks of doing so while actively using it. He began grabbing hold of the various bits of glass and crockery and lobbing them at the walls, where they shattered with satisfying noise.

His parents had been betrayed, had died, because someone made a prophecy in the hearing of a Death Eater, a prophecy that aimed Voldemort at him like a marksman with a rifle. For a few minutes he indulged in the unfairness of it all, the loss of those he'd never known, the pain of never having known them, the anger with Dumbledore for never telling him why. Then, covered in cuts from flying debris, he simply sat down in the middle of the floor, on a cushion that had mysteriously appeared the moment he was ready for it, curled into a ball and wept like a small child. He remained like that until he simply cried himself to sleep, having allowed himself to be broken for a little while, but knowing he would have to pull himself together in the morning.

* * *

If Harry was down for the next few days, most people didn't notice. Hermione did, as did Ron, but they were his closest friends. Dumbledore knew because he knew what had caused it. One person outside that circle, however, did notice.

Harry was sitting on a large rock, staring out at the Black Lake. The giant squid was catching chunks of bread that he was tossing listlessly into the water, presumably to eat them once they had been dragged beneath the surface. Luna Lovegood, the girl he'd met on the train, came walking up to him. She watched him for a while, a curious look on her face, then took another chunk of the bread in his lap and tossed it to the squid. In a dreamy, soft voice, she said, "While I'm sure Humphrys is enjoying this, I'm not sure that you are."

A small snort of laughter puffed out of his nose. "That's because I'm moping."

She studied his face. "I'm sure that's not what you're doing. I think instead that you are thinking in circles. You've learned something and you aren't sure how to deal with it."

Harry turned to look at her. She was a lovely girl with long, scraggly, dishwater blonde hair, blue eyes that were like deep pools of water, and an aura that seemed to bubble with different colors, all bright or soft. She could be many things, but never cruel or angry. "You're right," he found himself saying. "I found out why Voldemort wants me dead."

Luna said nothing, just letting him talk.

"There was a prophecy given before I was born that a boy born at the end of July that year would have the power to defeat him. It could have been me or Neville at that point. But then he marked me, making me the only person who fits the prophecy. I do not want to become a murderer. Neither do I want to leave him alive to continue to hurt people."

Luna surprised him, then, by saying, "There is a third choice, you know. Killing does not have to mean murder. Murder is defined by what is in your heart. Is it murder when you kill in self defence? Is it murder if you kill to keep your friends or family safe. Or is it only murder if you kill in order to gain something for yourself? A trinket, a woman, information, enjoyment." She patted his hand. "It's not a good thing that you'll have to kill him. But it's not murder, Harry."

Harry looked at his hand where she had touched him, a shiver of prescience creeping over his spine. "Luna—"

But she shook her head. "It's all right. I'm sure your friends will help you deal with the aftermath. I know I would if I were your friend."

He looked her in the eyes, and almost fell into them. He was shocked at her statement. But he was also entranced with what he was feeling from her through the force. It was as if his entire future were wrapped around her, or at least had the potential to be. He didn't want it to just be the force, though. He wanted there to be something between them other than the future. Still, he saw his daughter in her face, and knew that it was very likely that he would one day fall in love with her. He already liked her very much, just for her support. He took a deep breath. "Thank you, Luna. And I would like it if you were my friend. Would you like to be?"

She smiled at him. "I'd like that very much." Then she walked away, leaving him staring after her.

He looked back out at the lake and saw the waiting tentacles of the squid searching for more bread. "Well, Humphrys, friends is a good place to start, don't you think?"

* * *

If Hermione noticed that Harry was starting to hang out with the unusual Ravenclaw, she didn't mention it, though she did grin at him once or twice when she caught him staring at her. Ron, of course, was oblivious, but neither Ginny nor the twins were. In fact, the twins were trying to figure out a way to use his distraction against him to pull a good prank or two.

Percy had completed his inspection of all of the teachers, and he had presented his recommendation to the Headmaster before leaving the school to present it to Minister Fudge. The report was also published in the Prophet for everyone, including the students, to read. He had found instruction lacking in several areas, but none so much that he would reccommend that any of the teachers be replaced. He thought there was an inordinant amount of bias on the part of Professor Snape, but that his actual teaching was quite good. He thought Binns' information was out of date in several areas, and sadly lacking in student interaction, but he was a ghost, so there wasn't really anything that could be done about him.

Harry slowly came back to himself, and threw himself into his studies, his training, and his budding relationship with Luna. She had begun joining him for his morning run around the lake, and though he kept himself focused on the force as he ran, he did not use it to increase his physical ability while running, so Luna was reasonably able to keep up. They would then go their separate ways for breakfast and classes, but would spend lunch and dinner together. He told her what a Jedi was, and she asked him question after question. Many of her questions were related to the aliens of the Star Wars universe, though he assured her it was a fictional story. But she also asked many questions about his training and his motivation for it. She was interested enough that she asked him if he thought she could become a Jedi.

He told her, "Yes, I do. But I'm not in a position to teach you yet. I'm still learning myself, and I have to put the situation with Voldemort first."

She chuckled. "Oh, I know that, Harry. It's enough for now that you think I'll be able."

He smiled. "All right. I can tell you that I got started at the beginning by learning how to meditate. Then, once I was able to reach a meditative state no matter what I was doing, I used that to begin touching my own magical core. After that, I could sense the ambient magic all around us, and that is how I've been able to do what I've been doing. That ambient magic is what the book calls the force." He shrugged. "I'm finding new things every day. Did you know Hogwarts is actually alive, for instance?"

"There have always been rumors that it was, that the founders put so much of themselves into the castle that parts of their souls stayed within it."

Luna said it matter-of-factly, but the thought made him stop in his tracks, his eyes widening to the size of golf balls and his pupils contracting to pinpoints. "Hogwarts is a Horcrux?"

She shook her head. "No, nothing so dark as that. Back then there were other ways. They gave of their souls through light rituals that did not involve any kind of sacrifice. And since it was a free-will gift, it did not have the effect of making them immortal, or trapping them on this plane, as a Horcrux would. The method has been lost to time, of course. The rumors also say that the Sorting Hat is an extension of the will of the school."

Thoughtfully stroking his chin, Harry said, "That's why he keeps singing about unity. It's Hogwarts herself that is calling for it!"


End file.
